War of Dawn
by metallover
Summary: The galaxy is a dark place, and on the Hive World of Mesa, things are no different. Space Marines, Sisters of Battle, Imperial Guard, Chaos, Eldar and Tau all clash to stop the forces of chaos from consuming the planet. Discontinued
1. Prologue: Black Drakes

**Prologue: Black Drakes**

The streets were dimly lit this far under the surface of Mesa's largest Hive City, _Gurgurant_.

A young, but equally mature, looking man strode forward at a purposeful pace, ignoring the various puddles and vermin.

He stopped in front of a boarded-up old bar, and knocked loudly on the door three times. After a few seconds, the door opened, and behind it was an attractive young woman that seemed out of place in the dank, squalled surroundings.

"You're late, Bam," she said softly, moving to one side to allow him entry, and closing the door when he was safely inside.

"You know me, Lucca," Ben said, shrugging off his black leather coat and hanging it on a protruding nail, "I love to make an entrance."

Lucca said nothing, just turned and walked silently through the empty bar and disappeared into the back room.

Bam followed, stopping to inspect the empty bottles, and frowning disappointedly.

"Finally, we were going to start the meeting without you, man," a tall, skinny brunette boy said as he saw Bam come into the back room.

"You drank all the booze without me, didn't you, John?" Bam asked the brunette.

"We were bored," A short, even skinnier boy with shoulder length black hair said to Bam.

"Yeah, Tom was too much of a bitch to drink anything very heavy though," a redheaded boy said from the corner. The boy with long black hair pointed an obscene gesture in his direction, and turned away.

"Michael, go easy on Tom, he's a whole five years younger than you," another girl with short, dark blonde hair said to the redhead.

Sitting down, Bam said to the group; "So what's so important that you had to pull me away from a tall, blonde girly girl and her trusting but paralyzed cousin for?"

"Never heard that one before," Tom said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Seriously though, what's the deal?" Bam asked, more seriously, but still stifling a laugh from the group's female member's reactions.

"A group of Imperial Guard have landed, and are sweeping the underworld for a supposed Cult of some demon god, and that joke wasn't funny," Lucca said seriously.

"What's that have to do with us?" Bam asked, ignoring the comment about his joke.

"Dumb ass, we've set up groups of five Drakes in every hive on the planet, and the last reports indicated they're recruiting like crazy," John said to Bam.

"That's a good thing. Come to think about it, we'd better start recruiting as well. We're in charge of this gang, after all," Bam said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, isn't that good?" Tom asked the more informed members.

"Well, we're becoming a small army," Lucca began, "And with all the small arms dealing going on around us, we could be suspected as the cult they're after. We are their major suspect, and rumor is that the Imperials have an Inquisitor leading them."

At this, Tom exploded. "What!?" he screamed. "That's not good! You know what they do, right?! The stories they tell at the bars are true! They'll tear us open and hang us from the monastery! I don't wanna' be some cheap wind chime!"

"Tom! Chill!" Bam yelled over the hysterical boy's ranting. "All we've gotta' do is lead the Imperials to the cult, that's all."

Now the small room was deathly silent.

The redhead, Michael, broke the silence first. "So... What you propose we do is, and stop me if I'm wrong, infiltrate a cult as informants for the Imperium, get the facts, cruise out of there, and _not_ die? No problem," he finished sarcastically.

"Aside from turning ourselves in, this seems to be the best option," the short haired blonde, Nina, stated quietly.

"What I propose we do," Bam said over his friends, "Is go into hiding, and infiltrate the cult with two of our members. We then send word to everyone else to do the same, and report back with the details. And stop reading my mind, okay?"

"So who's going to do the 'infiltrating'?" Lucca asked after a moment of silence.

"I will," Tom answered straight away.

"No way, Tom. They give you one drop of alcohol, and you'll yak on about our plans and get us all killed," Michael said to Tom.

"I think we should send John and Nina," Lucca said before Tom could fire an insult back at Michael.

"Yeah, I'll do it," John said, sticking his chest out to look manlier.

"Nice try, Johnny-boy, but that just gives the impression that you have boobs. But I agree with Lucca, so I'll go," Nina said, poking John's chest.

"Hold on a minute," Tom said standing. "We go from average, run of the mill gang people, to highly trained espionage agents in ten minutes? I must still be drunk," he finished, sitting back down.

"Ignoring Tom's comment, we should choose three major hives, and the rest of us all go to get the rest of the groups going. We'll head out tomorrow, but you two better get started tonight," Bam ordered, standing up. "And start recruiting as well," he added as an afterthought.

"Cool, I get to try alcohol from around the world," Tom said getting up to leave.

Tom was the new Juve in the gang, a few years younger than the others. Sixteen was the initiation age for the gang. Tom was also a world class alcoholic. His hair was long, black, and a proverbial rat's nest. He also had the brown eyes common to the Messan people, but they'd started to fade because of the near constant alcohol abuse. He'd lost his parents in the same fire Bam and his brother had, but got stuck in an orphanage, and compensated by getting pissed off his face every chance he got. He was recovering though.

"No, you won't be wasting all our money on booze. Do you know how much it costs to travel between the hives?" Lucca said to Tom, following him out.

Lucca was the smarts of the gang, the voice of reason. She was intelligent, but wound up in a homeless shelter soon after her brother joined the Imperial Guard. There, John had picked her up out of sympathy. She wasn't very reliable in a firefight, but her hacking skills were unmatched in the under hive. Her black hair had grown to halfway down her back, and she kept it in a smart pony-tail. Her eyes were a peculiar grey-purple colour uncommon on Messa. Her incredibly oversized clothes hid the fact that she had a fairly good body, one thing Bam vowed he'd never try to get a look at again. The last time had ended disastrously.

"Urgh," Michael groaned, "I hoped I'd never have to go back to that pit-of-a-city they call _Titan_. It's the only hole in the Imperium above the ground."

Michael had thin, bright orange hair, which was always messy, no matter what he did. He had green eyes, which distinguished him as a psyker. Despite the decay that comes from using psyker powers, Michael had been fairly lucky, and with a pair of sunshades, he could blend in to a crowd pretty well. Michael and a number of other psykers had been chosen by the black ships of the Inquisition, but by utilizing their powers, escaped before the final bonding to the Emperor.

_"No offense to the Emperor, but I want my soul to stay mine,"_ he had said when he returned with some twenty odd psykers in tow.

"At least you might not get killed," Nina said, walking over to Michael, and offering him her hand. "Or worse," she continued, "Converted."

Nina was a striking young woman who had really filled out in the last few years, much to Bam's, Michael's, Tom's and John's happiness. She had medium length blonde hair and brown Messan eyes. Being kind of ditzy had drawbacks, though; as John had been arrested by the arabites four times in the last month for bar fights.

They laughed as they exited, and all that was left was John and Bam.

"Here," John said, pulling a small bottle full of clear liquid out of his pocket and handing it to Bam.

"It's Vostyrian Vodka," he explained. "I saved it for you."

"Thanks, man," Bam said, taking the bottle, and putting it in his pocket.

John and Bam had started out on the wrong foot. "Foot, hell, the entire leg!" John liked to put it. John was your average Messan, dark brown hair bordering on black and brown eyes. John was the gang leader before they'd been sent to cover Bam's losses. His old gang had been killed in a raid gone wrong, barring Aaron who was in rehab at the time. John and Bam had come to logger-heads when the revenge-raid was planned, but when Bam carried him out of the burning Fubuki mansion, they'd grown closer, and become good friends.

"So, got any leads on the cult?" John asked as the two started walking out.

"Why the hell would I? Come to think about it, Andra in grade 11 was acting kind of weird, and that new tattoo he got looks kind of sinister." Bam said thoughtfully, stopping to put his coat on.

"Tomorrow, I'll vox everyone and meet them at the train station," Bam went on, stepping into the cool night air. "If you and Nina aren't too busy with the cult, come see us off."

"Sure. See you tomorrow, then," John said, walking in the opposite direction of Bam.

"See ya', then," Bam called over his shoulder, and headed home.


	2. Chapter 1: Innocence

_Hey, if you're reading this, YOU ROCK! This is my longest running story, and contains the peak of my writing skill. Not in this chapter. Later on. Read and Enjoy!_

**Chapter 1: Innocence**

"Move! We've only got 10 minutes before the train goes! With or without us!" Tom called to Bam from across the station.

Coming to the rest of the group, Bam asked "So everyone's cool with this?"

A chorus of yes' and yeahs answered his question.

"Okay," Bam exclaimed, slapping his hands together and rubbing them vigorously, "Any good byes, say 'em now, 'cause I want to get some good seats."

This was followed by five minutes of mindless chatter, until Bam finally called everyone else to attention.

"Okay," he said above the other passengers, "Let's get going. John, you and Nina have a lot of work to do."

Climbing onto the train after saying one last goodbye, Bam stopped and added, "And don't get distracted! I've seen the way you two look at each other; don't let it escalate 'till the rest of us get back!"

The train was long, black, and streamlined to cut through the oncoming winds. It was powered by a class four repulsor engine, and hovered roughly an inch over the rails, power fed by an electric current. It was big, intimidating and fast. Just the way Bam liked to travel.

The train sped steadily southward, making few stops along the way. By noon Bam had exhausted all the music on his Personal Music Amplifier, and he was utterly bored.

Tom had his PMA, but it was considerably more advanced than Bam's, and held more than ten times as many songs.

Lucca'd brought a huge looking paperback, and had hardly made a dent in it.

Michael seemed content just starring out the window at the scenery rolling steadily by. Bam had tried this method, but after ten minutes was getting motion-sick, so he started playing his songs over again.

_This is gonna be a helluva long trip_ Bam thought sourly.

"What're you listening to, Tom?" Bam asked, bored out of his mind.

"Tom?" Bam asked again when he didn't reply. "Tom? TOM!" Bam yelled.

"You won't get his attention like that, Bam," Lucca said, looking over the rim of her book.

"Yeah, you gotta' poke him with a long stick," Michael said, pulling a pencil out of his backpack. "Or in this case..." he grinned.

"A small one will do!" he finally yelled, jabbing Tom hard in the ribs with the blunt end of the pencil.

"Ouch!" he screamed, jumping up and tearing the earphones out of his ears. "What the hell was that for!?"

"Bam wanted your attention," Michael laughed.

"Men," Lucca sighed, looking back down to her book.

"What?" Tom asked, sitting back down (and rubbing his side).

"I just wanted to know what you were listening to," Bam said, trying to stem the flow of laughter erupting out of his mouth.

"That's what was so important?" Tom exclaimed angrily. "If you really wanna' know, I recorded all of last season's big ball games."

"You mean you actually like that ancient sport?" Michael laughed.

"It's better than zero-g hockey," Tom mumbled, putting his earphone back in his ears.

"Says you," Michael said to Tom, turning to face the rolling scenery again.

"He's not man enough to play a real sport, eh Lucca?" Bam said, bumping her with his elbow.

She gave Bam one of her customary 'death glances', which caused him to move a little closer to the window.

He sighed and put his earphones back in his ears.

_Yup. This is going to be a freakin' long ride._

The train pulled into the station in Titan, the biggest mining city in the entire sector. Being a mining city, it was dirty, dark, and literally, as Michael previously stated, a pit. Being underground meant protection from aerial bombardment. The group realized this would be the staging point for the Regular forces, but they didn't realize just what that ment until they saw the troops in the streets.

"They're everywhere," Lucca whispered to Bam.

"I know," Ben replied. "I'm just worried about Aaron and the rest of his gang."

"He knew we were coming, so let's go to his hidey-hole already," Michael said, looking about like everyone could hear them.

The four had to go through six checkpoints, and Tom even got strip-searched, but they made it to the old mining sector, where Aaron's base of operations was.

"I hope he told his sentries what we look like," Bam whispered to Lucca.

As if on cue, the cocking of a gun was heard and a voice yelled out "Hold it! Who goes there!?"

"The founders of your glorious gang!" Michael called back.

"Grox-Shit!" Another voice, this time from behind them called.

"But we are!" Tom called.

"Take us to see Aaron!" Bam called. "I'm a good personal friend of his!"

After a few moments of silence, the first voice called "Okay, we're sending someone to meet you and take your weapons!"

"We had to go through six checkpoints and one of us was strip-searched. As if we'd even have a friggin razor," Lucca muttered.

After a few minutes, a tall, buff, dark skinned boy with a dirty blue bandana on his head and a scar on one side of his face that ran from his chin and disappeared into his bandana.

"He's mute, so don't expect him to say anything," A young woman with cropped brown hair said, stepping out of the shadows. Strangely, she sported the latest military grade Automatic Las-rifle.

_Small arms my ass. No wonder the soldiers are all over our asses. _Bam thought sourly.

After a through patting-down, the group was led to an abandoned mining shaft, where a (poorly) hidden tripod machine gun was set up, presumably to make the gang look better armed.

"Thought we're only supposed to deal in _small_ arms," Tom whispered to Bam.

"We'll see," was Bam's answer, while his mind reeled with the sheer scale of how bad things had gotten. The others failed to notice the fifty-or-so snipers hidden in fissures and cracks on the way. Even more disturbing, was the fact that all of them wore military issue Kevlar jackets, and had brand new X-J model sniper variant las rifles, capable of _piercing _Kevlar plates up to an inch thick.

"I noticed," Michael muttered.

_Stop reading my mind, you god damned psyker, GET OUT! _Bam yelled in his mind as loud as he could, and was rewarded when Michael winced and rubbed his ear.

_We'll talk about this later_ Bam added; hoping Michael was still in his head.

"Wait here," The chick said curtly to Bam's group.

"Fine," he said, plonking down on a nearby crate.

"Bam, the label on that crate says 'grenades'," Lucca pointed out.

Bam jumped and yelped at the same time, kind of like a dog when you step on its tail.

"God Emperor, so much for small arms," Tom said, taking a small step away from the crate of grenades.

"That's what you get when war breaks out. You need to have _weapons_," a commanding voice said from behind them.

"Aaron, old buddy, how are you?" Bam practically yelled, reaching out to shake his friend's hand, only to find a bandaged stump at the elbow.

"Gak! What happened!?" Michael yelled, going pale.

"Now is neither the time, nor the place. Follow me," Aaron said, walking inside the shack.

Once inside, Aaron kicked a can, bent down, and with his good arm, punched the dirt where the can had been. A staircase descended to a sub-level where a corridor stretched off to an unseen place.

"After you," Aaron said to the group, who started walking down one by one. When Tom, Michael, Lucca, Bam, Aaron and his two soldiers were in, the hatch automatically closed, leaving the group of teenagers alone in the dark.

_I have no problem saying that I hate this ending. I'm just too slack to change it. Just keep reading. As allways, any feedback is appreciated._


	3. Chapter 2: Drakes of Titan

_Thank god, someone's still reading this! Thank you SO MUCH cries loudly in absolute joy! Read and enjoy._

**Chapter 2: Drakes of Titan**

"Where's the light switch? Ah, here," Aaron's voice said from the dark, pulling a small chain, while a light rod above them whined and crackled to life.

Aaron, the only other member of the original Gurgurant Drakes left alive, was the ying to Bam's yang. Where Bam was a hot headed idiot, Aaron was cool and collected. Where Bam wanted to charge headlong into a fire-fight, Aaron considered their position, and on more than one occasion had to restrain Bam from getting himself killed, and where Bam still had all his original appendages, Aaron obviously didn't.

The light revealed an underground wharehouse of sorts bustling with pale drakes that all yelped and tore off night vision goggles, an abandoned military bunker Aaron told the group later. The walls were stacked with military boxes labeled in foreign languages, some in basic gothic, others in Vostyrian, and others in Tau, Eldar, and even one labeled as a biohazard.

"Don't worry about the bio-hazard box," Aaron said while they passed it, noticing the newcomer's looks. "All it had in it was some Tyranid tissue samples we stole from a military convoy. Sold em' to the Eldar for eight boxes of Shuriken Catapults and two boxes of Shuriken Pistols."

At this, Lucca stopped dead. "Eldar weapons. You have dealings with the Eldar," she said, dread in her voice.

"Yeah, they're our main backers, and the Tau are pretty friendly towards us, too. Why?" Aaron asked, bewildered.

"In case you haven't heard, there's an INQUISITOR after us!" Tom said, emphasizing the word inquisitor.

"And?" The chick with short brown hair said.

"I don't even gakking know you, don't interject into our conversations," Bam said heatedly.

The other guy grunted, and raised his gun.

"Whoa, slow down," Aaron said, raising his hand as a sign to stop. "Bam, this is Bec, and Wad. Better?"

Wad grunted again and turned away, while Bec gave Bam a death glare. "Fine," she said icily, stalking off in the direction they'd just come, followed closely by Wad.

"Stupid bitch, doesn't she know we run this gang," Tom muttered, moving forward a few paces.

"Obviously she doesn't," Aaron said, continuing down the packed corridor.

"What're you talkin' about, pipsqueak? You don't do anything," Michael ribbed Tom, and was rewarded with a 'huff'.

"Umm, Bam?" Tom asked when the two Titan drakes were out of earshot.

"What?" Bam answered.

"What does 'interject' mean?" Tom asked.

"No idea," Bam whispered into his ear.

"This is getting us nowhere," John sighed, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Nina asked, looking up from the screen she'd been staring at.

Soon after the rest of the group had left, Nina had decided that they start in the Gurgurant Library to look for newspaper or magazine articles about the supposed 'cult'.

The library was in the upper spire, and they had to collect on some 'favors', use all of Bam's connections, and at one point pretend to be trees. It had been eventful, to say the least, and they only had twenty four hours exactly to get as much info as possible.

"We're not going to find anything here," John sighed, leaning back towards his screen. "We have to get out there and actually physically look for them."

"You do that," Nina said, looking intently at the screen in front of her.

Nina was like a sponge, soaking up every little bit of information she didn't need. Song lyrics, catch phrases, interesting but completely useless facts, all stuck to her brain like glue. The important stuff, however, didn't stick as well, so she had filled her backpack with print outs, and was well on her way to filling John's.

"Fine, I will," John said, standing and walking away.

It was amazing what you could find in the spire. A replica twist bar didn't quite strike John as 'Upper Spire' behavior. And you could tell it was all fake. John had to resist the urge not to laugh. It was so funny. The pound music playing would have definitely made Michael and Tom laugh. They practically lived in twist bars. Real twist bars. This place was like a bad joke. But it had what he wanted. So he sat down on a barstool, something twist bars didn't have, and ordered a beer.

"Are you old enough?" The bartender asked. He wore an awful attempt at twist rags, but a) you could see he didn't have a single deformity (besides the one in his brain that made him work in a pit like this) and b) you could see the clothes he wore underneath them. This time John did laugh.

"What's so funny, kid?" The bartender asked, going red.

"Nothing, nothing," John said, still laughing, and flashed his fake ID. It seemed to satisfy the non-twist bartender, who gave him the beer and slunk off to the other end of the bar.

"This is so pathetic" John said to the guy two stools away after taking a swig of the beer. The beer was uphive. The freakin beer. It's not like it was hard to brew your own like the twist bars did.

"I like it," the guy told him. He was like any other Messan. Brown hair bordering on black, brown eyes, and pale skin. A desk worker John decided. A desk worker with a cult tattoo on his chest that you could see when he leaned forward.

"It's a pathetic knock off," John repeated. "If they wanted to make it more life like, maybe they would've gone to see a real twist bar."

The guy chuckled. "Yeah, I can see him in a downhive twist bar," the guy indicated to the bartender, who glowered like a kid who was told his work of art sucked.

"He wouldn't last a second," John said, taking another sip of his un-twist like beer. "They'd see him for the uphiver he is and rob him blind."

"You sound like you've been," the guy said, moving one stool closer.

"Yeah, I spent a few months down there doing some surveying," John lied. "Found some pretty cool stuff. Like... non Imperial stuff. The kind of groups you don't see up here."

"That's where you're wrong, friend," the guy said, moving to sit right next to John.

John smiled.

_Now this is more like it_.

Somewhere in the bowels of Hive City Nova, an alarm siren went off. As the frightened citizenry all stopped their actions at once, the alarm was joined by another. This one was followed by another, and soon enough, the entire hive was ablaze in frantic activity. Hive workers, underhive gangers and politicians alike all stopped that day, and looked to the sky, where a massive shape loomed over the city. A black Chaos Planet Killer variant cruiser blocked out the sun, and trained all it's guns onto the hive. Just as the aerial bombardment began, a column of twenty flatbed trucks took off from the west end of the hive, each bearing a black drake wing behind a blue sword on the driver and passenger doors. In twenty minutes, the planet killer was able to completely destroy the Hive. During the course of the next four hours, Chaos Thunderhawks and drop-pods bombarded the ruins, and thousands of Chaos Space Marines bearing the mark of Slaanesh made their base among the ashes.

Lucius the Eternal, Master of the Emperor's Children Traitor Legion and Chosen of Slaanesh stepped out of his drop pod, and took a deep breath.

_Nothing is better than the smell of a new planet to conquer_ he thought, before issuing orders to his troops.

"Oh really," John said to the guy.

"Yeah, Chaos cults to the god of pleasure. We're leaving soon, though. Our master has told us to go to Nova," The guy said discretely into his drink. "It's great. Everything is like an orgy. Eating, drinking. Pain," He added, pulling up his sleeve to show John where he'd been cutting himself.

"Holy shit, are you trying to kill yourself?" John asked in an angry whisper.

"No, no, you don't get it. It's, it's... ecstasy," the guy said, putting his sleeve back down.

"So why Nova?" John asked, regaining his composure.

"Can't tell," The guy said. "Unless, of course, you're one of us."

John smiled knowingly and pulled his collar down, revealing a copy of Andra's tattoo he'd drawn on his chest.

"Ah, okay. Sorry, just gotta make sure," The guy said. "It's because that the Chosen of Slaanesh are coming. To Nova," the guy said, excitement creeping into his voice.

John resisted the urge to wince at the name of the dark god.

"Cool, thanks for the info," John said. "Too bad I can't let you go and tell your friends about me."

The guy's eyes widened as John showed his gang tattoo on the opposite side of his chest, and stabbed the guy in the heart with his knife. The guy's eyes widened and he fell onto the bar.

John paid for his drinks then left to go and find Nina.

"Let's go through this one more time," Bam said, sitting on the end of his bunk, pinching the skin between his eyes. "You trade our military secrets for guns and artillery from the Eldar, and ourweapons to the Tau for their weapons?"

"Forty boxes of Pulse Carbines and Rifles don't lie," Aaron said with a shrug.

"And you cut your hand off at the elbow screwing around with an Eldar Shuriken Catapult?" Lucca added from her bunk.

"Yeah," Aaron said, looking a little embarrassed.

"And now you say a group of Eldar doctors are coming to give you an artificial arm?" Michael asked from his bunk above Lucca.

"Yes," Aaron confirmed.

"Did you ever consider that they won't get past the huge blockade around the planet?" Tom asked from above Bam.

"They said something about warping in," Aaron answered.

"How much is this gonna' cost?" Bam asked, lying down on his bunk.

"They said that because I'm a smart human, they'd do it as a token gesture," Aaron said, leaning back in his chair.

"Smart?" Lucca laughed. "They do know you have a third grade education, right?"

"Shut up," Aaron said weakly, going red from embarrassment.

Just then, a young looking boy with a red streak juve tattoo down the right side of his face burst into the room. "Sir, we just lost vox contact with Hive Nova," the boy panted. "We think that it's an orbital bombardment."

"Shit," Aaron cursed.

"That's where Alex is, right?" Michael asked, speaking for the first time since flopping down onto his bunk.

Aaron murmured something that sounded like yes, and turned to the Vox operator. "Keep trying to get into contact with her, don't stop till' you do."

Saluting, the Vox operator turned and ran off.

"Serves 'em right for changing their name. The Valkyries aren't as independent as they'd hoped," Michael mumbled from his bunk.

"Damo was still in contact with them," Aaron said helpfully.

"Yeah," Lucca said, lying back on her bunk. "But he's even stupider than you."

"Nice," Aaron said sarcastically. "Bam, let's go. The Eldar said they wanted to meet the boss soon. Now's as good as ever," he added, turning to Bam.

Sighing, Bam stood and left, followed by Aaron, while Tom and Michael dissolved into another argument.

Late that night, the Eldar came. They were too tall, and too skinny, moving gracefully through the tear in realspace they'd created to get to the base. All the Black Drakes of Titan lined up in rank, except for the snipers Bam and Michael had seen earlier. Bam had been fitted with a formal coat he'd received from Aaron, who wore a matching one. The other three of Bam's retinue wore Eldar armor that had been painted black with a white dragon on the left side of the chest. Needless to say, they were uncomfortable, especially Lucca, who was more suited to wearing her baggy, loose fitting clothes, in stead of the tight, form fitting Eldar material.

Of course, Bam wasn't complaining.

"Welcome, oh gracious Eldar," Aaron said, bowing low and wincing at his arm.

The Eldar group of seven was two doctors, four soldiers in red and an important looking one in a black and red cloak.

Bowing in return, the seemingly important one replied, "We have decided it is time to stop wallowing in our self-pity, and learn more about the younger races, including the mon' keigh, and help them when they are in need."

"And here I thought that all Eldar hated our race, and thought of us as no more than pitiful bottom feeders," Tom said from his place next to Lucca.

"Goddamnit, Tom," Bam hissed. "Can't you keep your gakking opinions to yourself?!"

It was true that the Eldar held themselves in high regard as a species, even going so far as to completely shun the other races at times, but these ones were different. It seemed that they actually wanted to learn more about the other races. That, or they were very good actors Bam decided.

The important seeming Eldar in black and red robes merely laughed and said, "This may have been so it the past, but now that we're coming into the new millennium, we'd like to learn more about the other civilized races of the galaxy."

"Excuse Tom," Bam said, bowing again. "He's far from civilized."

"It is fine. May I ask who I have the honor of knowing who I address?" the Eldar asked.

"Bam Lockeheart, leader of the Black Drakes," Bam said, bowing again.

"Eldrad Ultwae, Farseer of the third Saim-Hann Council," Eldrad answered, bowing as well.

"I hate to interrupt," Aaron said from the side. "But I haven't taken painkillers in four hours, as per your instructions, and I'm in serious pain, so, uh, can I have my arm now?"

Bam winced. _Same old Aaron, straight to the point. _Bam groaned inwardly.

"Of course, my apologies," Eldrad said to Aaron. Then, in his own strange language, he barked, or more chirped, some instructions to the masked doctors, who led Aaron into the rift-tear.

"Please, Join us," Eldrad said, beckoning towards the rift.

Bam seemed to consider this, and then said to the other three, "Michael, Tom, Lucca, one with me, two after the Farseer." Then, to Eldrad, he bowed and said, "Thank you for your invitation."

The Eldar Carrier was beautifully furnished with exotic alien furniture, and thick, lavish carpets on the floor. The Eldar led the way through twisting and winding corners, passing dozens of workers dressed in red and black robes, but not as regal as Eldrad's. When they got to a cross-section, Aaron and Michael went with the doctors, and Bam, Lucca and Tom followed Eldrad. The Eldar Honor Guard had remained on Mesa as an insurance of the Drakes' safety. After following Eldrad into a stately office, the three were asked to sit, and were all poured a glass of Eldar Wine.

After taking a swig, Tom said, "Not half bad."

"Yeah, what vintage is it?" Lucca asked.

"The vintage dates back to before the fall of the Eldar race, so it might be a little potent," Eldrad said with a shrug.

"That's got to be at least ten thousand years old!" Bam exclaimed. "You must really consider us important guests."

"I do," Eldrad said simply, sitting down behind a lavish desk of some alien timber.

After a few moments of silence, Eldrad cleared his throat and asked, "I have heard rumors that you are having a little trouble with a Chaos cult."

"And?" Tom asked, being elbowed in the ribs seconds later by Lucca.

"We understand it's to the God of Lust," Eldrad said cautiously.

"We're not sure yet," Bam admitted. "Our Gang has two talented researchers on it right now."

Tom started laughing, tried stifling it, and failed at this statement, earning another of Lucca's elbows in the ribs.

"Well," Eldrad continued. "Your race may or may not know this, but it was the creation of that Dark God that caused the fall of our race. It is a strict code of honor that causes us to hunt them. We've been on the trail of this cult for almost four standard years, and we need to take them down here."

Lucca perked up at this. "If I could have access to a library of some sort, I could find a way to bring them down," she suggested warily.

"We have an excellent library on this ship," another Eldar said, walking into the room.

"Captain Tennel," Eldrad greeted the newcomer, who wore similar robes to Eldrad.

"The chief surgeon sent me to tell our guests that Sir Aaron's prothstetic limb is complete," the Captain told the group.

"Is it normal for high ranking Eldar captains to relay simple messages?" Tom asked, being elbowed in the ribs again by Lucca.

"I wanted to see the humans Eldrad has spoken so highly of," Tennel laughed.

"I apologize for my friend. He was dropped on his head as a child. Very tragic," Bam said in a mock sad voice.

"Ah, human humor," Eldrad observed.

"I will show Miss Lucca to the library," Captain Tennel offered.

"Is it okay if Tom stays with her? For safety reasons?" Ben asked, standing.

"Absolutely," Eldrad complied. "But you have nothing to fear of us."

"I was thinking more along the lines of protecting him," Bam said, ignoring Tom's indignant look.

"Ah, more human humor. Of course, it is no problem," Eldrad said, before giving more orders to Tennel in their language.

Lucca and Tom followed Captain Tennel out of the room.

Bam and Eldrad met up with Aaron and Michael at the intersection that they'd left. Bam then realized it would have been better to send Tom with Aaron, because the Psyker was even paler than usual and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He almost looked as if he'd felt the pain Aaron had. Aaron, on the other hand, was high off pain-killers.

"Whooo!" Aaron said, stumbling up to Bam. "The painkillers really work! I can't even feel my teeth!"

"Great," Bam said, rolling his eyes.

The group left and arrived at the warp rift, where a small group of cowelled Eldar in black coats were waiting.

"Sir Bam, this is Eldrad Alar, my younger sibling," Eldrad explained. "He and his group of Rangers wish to accompany you to the planet."

"Great, but, uh, I'm not sure if that's a good idea," Bam said cautiously.

"Why is that?" Alar asked from behind his cowl.

"Well, if the Imperial forces find us allied with the Eldar, we could be executed on the spot," Michael supplied.

"I understand that," Alar said. "But we are honor-bound to kill the agents of the Lust God."

Sighing, Bam said, "I can see there's no point in arguing. Welcome aboard."

"So," Bam said into the communicator, "Any leads?"

"Nah, none so far," John's holographic face replied.

"Damn," Bam cursed.

"Nina was in the library from dawn till' dusk, and still no leads," John went on. "So what about you guys? Any luck?"

Bam sighed. "Yeah, Aaron got a prothstetic arm, we've lost all communication with Hive Nova, and, oh, I've got a group of alien hunters tagging along everywhere I go, Lucca and Tom are in another system on board an Eldar World-Ship, and now I have to be on the next train to Andera, which leaves in two hours. Apart from that, everything's fine."

"Well, good luck. I gotta go, my uncle's home and he's tired of international call bills," John whispered hastily before pressing the 'call terminate' button.

"Argh!" Bam yelled angrily. "As if this could get any worse!"

As if on cue, the first wave of shelling started.

Aboard the Eldar ship Eldrad Ultwe sat in his dimly lit chambers, elbows resting on his table, and chin resting on his interwoven fingers. The mon'kiegh had no idea what they were up against. He couldn't let them know. Let them continue on their little mission, and hope they don't stumble upon his plans. Ultwe smiled as he pulled a grinning death-mask out from under his table.

_I cannot let the dark one be resurrected. My position, my rank, even my life and the lives of the Mon'kiegh, are secondary._

_Well? How was it? I NEED TO KNOW! Drop me a line, leave a review, whatever. And keep reading! It's about to get good._


	4. Chapter 3: Imperial Wrath

_This chapter I had to majorly revamp before it was ready for submission. I added a lot more tof the big Drakes meeting, it just didn't work the way it was before. Oh well, hopefully this version works a little better. Read and enjoy!_

**Chapter 3: Imperial Wrath**

Through the shelling, Bam could hear his people dying. Getting up, he was surprised to see that even through the shelling, the Drakes of Titan were suiting up. Aaron was standing on a crate shouting orders.

"Four teams to the rear, four to the front!" He yelled above the shelling. "Everyone else, get ready for a charge!"

"Are you nuts!?" Bam yelled. "We don't even know what we're fighting! There could be Space Marines out there for all we know!"

"And?!" Aaron yelled back.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Bec asked over the shelling.

"What!?" Bam yelled back.

"Have you ever fought in a gang war with more than twenty people all up!?"

"No, of course not! Have you?!"

"Well shut-up and let the man work!" she finished, ignoring Bam's question, then turning to run to her regiment.

Before Bam could rebut, Michael appeared at his side, with all the Eldar marksmen behind him. Michael was wearing one of their camo-capes and held one of their rifles.

"Say the word, boss," Michael yelled over the shells.

"We wait!" Bam replied. "If we're not surrounded, we make a break for it!"

"No good, we're completely surrounded!" Alar added.

"When the shelling stops, we run!" Bam said. "Until then, get to a high point and try to take those mortars out! Meet me at the upper thirteenth train station! Move!"

"Aaron," Bam yelled to the teen still trying to organize his troops. "I need some volunteers! Not many! No alien weapons or armor!"

Aaron seemed to think for a minute, and then yelled two names that Bam didn't catch. "These two'll serve you well!" He yelled. "I'll see you after we get the cult!" He added, shoving a bundle of rags into Bam's hands, and taking off after the rest of his gangers.

"With me!" Bam instructed to his new followers. "When the shelling stops, Aaron's leading a charge," Bam told the two. "That's our only chance for escape. If you get separated, head to the upper thirteenth platform. If you miss the five-oh-six, come back here and help Aaron."

The two saluted, and fell into step behind Bam. They reached the ground floor, and hung to the back as hundreds of the Titan Drakes prepared for their charge.

Bam hastily tucked the bundle into his pack, without looking at what it was.

The artificial wind from the huge cooling vats this far bellow ground was almost negative three, but this didn't seem to bother the Eldar Marksmen. Michael risked using his psychic powers to determine which targets would cause the most damage or disarray in the troops. So far he'd blown a Valkyrie out of the air with a precision shot, killed what he hoped were four important officers, and taken twelve of the thirty mortar teams out. He hadn't been trained from birth to shoot a black target in a dark room, but he let the Emperor guide his aim. At least, he hoped it was the Emperor...

"Sir, the charge is going to start soon!" one of the marksmen, Jannaf, yelled to Michael.

"Good," Michael answered, picking off his eighth Lieutenant. "Let's move!" He ordered, and the group returned inside to find their exit.

"Sir," one of the two gang-soldiers following Bam said.

"Yes?" Bam enquired.

"If we're going to make a break for it, there's an underground pipe junction that goes almost all the way to the train station," The juve said.

"What's your name?" Bam asked him.

"He's Kyle, I'm Franz," the other boy supplied.

"Lead on," Bam told the two.

The train station was deserted save for three Shock Troops and their wounded Sergeant.

Bam, Kyle and Franz, who were all wearing bootlegged black Imperial armor, managed to get most of the way without trouble. They'd met up with Michael and the Eldar two blocks away, who were now waiting in the shadowy alley near the tracks.

The two un-wounded soldiers stood and before they could even ask for authorization, the three Drakes opened fire.

"You bastards!" the wounded man yelled. "The Emperor have mercy on you're black souls!"

"Shut him up," Bam ordered to Kyle, who smashed the Lieutenant in the side of his head with the butt of his las-rifle.

"Grab him, he may come in handy," Bam told Franz.

The combined human/Eldar group then climbed aboard the train, and settled in for the long trip to the Andrea hive complex.

In deep space, approximately three months and twenty days flight from Messa, a shape of bright red and night black cruised at maximum heading towards the war torn planet. On one panel in particular, a giant drop of blood flanked by the wings of Sanguinius, above the stylized number thirteen rested.

On board the Crimson Sun battle barge _Litany of Wrath_, Brother-Captain Rafen stood at the railing of the observation deck. Alone, he stood watching the stars fly past, lost in thought. Like the tolling of a bell, the door behind him opened, revealing a huge man in black and red power armor, with the telltale psychic hood protruding from the neck.

"What is it, Brother-Librarian," He asked, without turning around.

"Lord, my brothers and I have ascertained that the dark one is indeed going to try to return to this plane at the specified location." Brother Librarian Lucifer Ashe said in a grave voice.

Rafen let out a sigh. He knew this would happen eventually, but this was too soon. His warriors were guilt ridden over the incident with the Spear of Telesto, where they'd been tricked into following the Dark Inquisitor Stele to the brink of damnation. Many had already fallen to the Red Thirst, the chapter's gene curse, from the pure anticipation of the upcoming battle, and the thought of being able to redeem themselves in the eyes of the Emperor.

Rafen was the Captain of the Blood Angel's Thirteenth Company, on an eternal crusade to purge the galaxy of Chaos. Through the years his men had faced death on countless occasions, including the actions of the insane Inquisitor Rameus Stele. His own blood kin had fallen to chaos because of that warp-damned man, and he had almost paid for it with his life countless times. The thing that vexed him most, however, was the thought that he had ended his own sibling. True, his brother Arkio had been deceived and fallen to Chaos, and it was his job to root out Chaos wherever it may rear its hideous head, but that hadn't done much to assuage his guilt. He had been chosen to lead this company, but still he felt unworthy. The guilt from the death of his brother still hovered over his head, and many a night when he'd woken from dreams of his brother in a cold sweat.

_I can't dwell on the past,_ he thought.

"Has there been any word from father Jericho yet?" Rafen asked, turning.

Lucifer shook his head.

"Damn, what is that man doing?" Rafen swore, turning back to the stars.

Dalton hurried through the streets of Gurgurant much the same way his brother had only days earlier. The target objective, though, remained the same. Dalton was Bam's younger brother by four years, their other brother, older and younger respectfully, was killed in their childhood in the fire that took their parents.

A meeting had been called and all the active and former Drakes were asked to attend, on level one disaster status. And, like his brother before him, Dalton was late.

_'A call to all Drakes, current and former'_ he thought. _It's a bit short notice._

Only one other level one disaster status call had been properly achieved before, and that took weeks to prepare. What John and Nina were doing, in so short a time, was unheard of.

He reached the boarded-up bar, and was ushered in by two big guys with the Drake logo on their chests. The Drakes were spread thin over Gurgurant, and to have all of them in one place at once would be painting 'shoot me, I'm blindfolded' on the gang's back. _This must really be important._

Upon entering, he met with his friends from the hive, Reno and Elena. Reno had long red hair he always kept in a pony-tail, green eyes, wore a standard issue civilian shirt and pants, but also had a black gangers jacket, which was the standard attire for the gang. Elena was small and skinny, with short (but stylish) blonde hair, and chestnut brown eyes.

After a few more minutes, the entire gang (including all former members still living in Gurgurant) had assembled, and John and Nina had called the meeting to order. The gangers ranged from Juves just starting out to swathe businessmen that were obviously ex-gangers.

"We're taking a huge risk here, so let's keep it short," John began. "Lately, the Imperials, who normally don't give a grox's ass about us have moved an entire battle fleet into the Mesa system, and are commencing periodic sweeps of every hive city. As soon as they find the slightest trace of chaos taint, they'll try to root it out. If they fail, then an Exterminatus order'll be issued."

At the last few words, the entire room fell into a stunned silence. Exterminatus was just that, extermination. It was where an imperial fleet virus bombed a planet into nothingness.

Taking up where John left off, Nina said "We can't let that happen," She said. "We won't let that happen. All the other gangs have been militarizing beyond the point of simple underhive gangs. We need to as well. Forget the small stuff, we need las-rifles, flak armor and gun emplacements. Our information says that the cults are all converging on Nova. That's where our sister gang the Valkyries is. And we've lost contact with them. We're waiting on word from Bam and the others as to what we need to do."

"What about the residents of Nova? Won't they have a problem with the cultists?" Reno asked from the back.

"There are none left. Orbital imaging shows us that the hive's been leveled," a scientist looking guy in the front said.

The room went mad at this. The thought of fighting something that could level an entire hive was a frightening prospect. And everyone wanted to voice their opinion on this at once.

"Leveled? As in gone?"

"What in the name of the holy Emperor could do that?!"

"Enough!" A well kept businessman in a blue suit yelled, getting up. "Twenty years ago when I started this gang, I didn't teach everyone to fall into anarchy so easily!"

_So this is Bam and Dalton's uncle. Demetrious._ John thought, awestruck.

Demetrious was obviously getting on in years, his black hair beginning to fade, and his neat goatee graying around the edges. He was still, none the less, in perfect physical condition under that suit, and everyone present could tell.

"John," he said, sitting back down.

"Uh, as I was saying, this is the biggest gang in all the underhives of every major hive on this rock of a planet. So if we gather every gang, sub gang, branching gang and sister gang, we should have a fairly big group. An army of drakes," John said a little hesitantly.

"Right, well, what I say we do," Nina said, "Is find a place to assemble all the gangs. Say, Andrea? It's the closest to Nova, so that should be our base of operations, don't you think?"

A murmur of agreement swept through the crowd.

"Sounds good," A man in the back, opposite to Dalton, Reno and Elena called out. "But who's gonna lead?"

"Simple, Jacob," John said to the guy. "Everyone. This is just the leaders of Gurgurant. The rest of the gangs are all over the place."

Jacob Lockeheart, older brother to both Bam and Dalton, one of the greatest bounty hunters in the Gurgurant underhive, raised an eyebrow.

"But we need an overall commander. Someone with experience, someone that knows what they're doing," he pointed out.

"Guess that rules you out then, huh?" Tilly, Jacob's redheaded female hanger-on, said.

Jacob groaned and covered his face, while everyone in the room started laughing.

"I agree," Dalton said. "And I nominate Uncle Demetrious."

"This isn't a parliament house," John said over the chorus of agreements.

"Surely the man that started the gang should lead us at this time," a mid level scribe with a red stripe tattoo horizontal on his cheek said.

"No," was Demetrious' only reply. The room instantly fell silent.

"But why not?" Elena asked.

"I'm old, these muscles are just for show," He explained. "I nominate John."

The hall all but exploded at this.

"But he's just a kid!"

"There's no way! He's not even leader of his sect!"

"Just for show?! Those things could crack julnuts!"

John seemed awestruck. Him? Lead? The thought seemed like... impossible.

"I agree," A man in the flak armour of an Imperial Guard Lieutenant said, stepping out of the shadows at the right side of the chamber. The crowd fell silent again.

"Anderson!" Demetrious exclaimed. "Well it's about damn time."

"I agree," Lieutenant Anderson said again. "I think John should lead us."

"Us?" John asked, ashen faced. "As in, Imperial Guard as well?"

"I can give you a field promotion to Second Lieutenant of the Messan 302nd Infantry. You'd be second only to me," Anderson explained.

Now this was too much. _Me? A Guard officer? No way in hell, this is just a bad dream _John thought.

"So let's all be quiet and hear what our illustrious leader has to say," Demetrious said over the crowd.

"Well, I guess I don't get the option anymore, huh?" John said with resignation. "I really don't want to do this."

"Objection noted," Anderson said, and everyone started talking about the nuts and bolts of the plan. John Sighed.

"Well, look at it this way," Nina said quietly. "Most of history's best leaders have been the ones that didn't want the position in the first place."

"Yay," John said with sarcasm, and resigned himself to a long night.

The next few weeks were dedicated entirely to reorganizing the entire Black Drake infrastructure into something resembling a guard regiment. Fire teams, squads, platoons, commands, all were sorted. The entire gang population of Gurgurant was drakes, so this was easier said than done. The call went out to all the other Drake gangs, sub gangs and the like, and confirmation came flooding back. The Black Drakes of Gurgurant, the few remaining Lords of Ruin, and the Desert Aurochs, the last of the Fire Men tribes, all banded together, creating an army of 100 thousand strong, with an auxiliary of twenty thousand, not counting the Guard regiments that would train and mould them into soldiers.

All of them answered to John Armstrong, chosen of Demetrious and Anderson.

The plan was to spend three weeks training, and then move everyone to Nova on the Trains, a weeklong ride. The Imperial Guard would go in first, accompanied by the Desert Aurochs and however many gangers would fit. Then the rest of the gangs would come on other trains, until all had assembled there.

The train station had been converted into a makeshift gathering point where the gangers were sorted into their respective 'battalions'.

On the sixth day of the second week, a cargo shipment was inbound, carrying the weapons and armor for the drakes, and a special passenger.

As the ramp of the cargo freighter _Pure Luck _lowered, the preacher stroked his beard. He'd been in hundreds of battles, and scores of sieges. By the pure power of his will was he able to convince the Warmaster that the men of Gurgurant Primaris needed spiritual guidance. As the Leman Russ' carried the crates to the waiting technicians, Father Richardson strode over to the small group overseeing the delivery of their supplies.

"Rejoice my sons, for I am here to guide your path to righteousness!" He celled as a greeting.

"Father?" Anderson asked confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I go where I am needed, child," Father Richardson answered. The Preacher wore a ceremonial white battle robe, and black preacher's clothes underneath it. A pendant of the two-headed Imperial Eagle hung from his neck on a gold chain, and two medium sized power swords hung from his waist. "Emperor be with you," he added as an afterthought to Dalton, John and Reno, who were standing behind Anderson as part of his 'retinue'.

"Same to you, Father," Reno said almost reflexively.

"Emperor guide us in this most holy Endeavour," John said, bowing his head and placing his hand over his heart.

"I am his blade," Dalton said, starting his favorite prayer, which happened to be the only one he really knew.

"Ah, devout servants of the God-Emperor!" Father Richardson cried with glee.

"Yes," Anderson said sheepishly. "At any rate, I guess your here now, so let's get you settled in," he finished, regaining some composure.

"Before we do though," John said, stepping forward. "I just want to say that things may seem a little," John had to think for a second. "Fruity, around here. Long story short, more than half of us are underhive-gangers."

The Preacher seemed to consider this for a moment, then said "If Lieutenant Anderson says you're on the level, then you are. I am at your service." Then, as an afterthought, he said "And, by the way, where can I get one of those tattoos?"

As the final ship out date approached, the tension came to boiling point. Guards, being more than a little disquieted by the amount of gangers, became snobbish and aloof, which caused an endless stream of fights, and without a commissar, all the disciplinary action came to rest on John's already overburdened shoulders. He managed to restore order into the ranks, somehow, with the help of Father Richardson.

The day had come to move to Nova.

All the Guard, Fire Men, and a good chunk of the drakes boarded the train.

The Drakes were on the move.

_Ohhh, cliffhanger! What happens? Do they get where they need to go? Do they survive? And what about the Imperial? Will he cause trouble? Who knows? I sure as hell ain't talking! just keep reading!_


	5. Chapter 4: Train Ride

_What to say, what to say... Read!_

**Chapter 4: Train Ride**

After the scuffle with the Imperial troops, Bam and his cadre had decided to take the wounded Lieutenant with them. After a brief inspection of the man's dog-tags, they found his name to be Helios. Helios' leg and arm were wounded pretty badly, and it took about an hour for Michael and Jannaf (who were becoming good friends) to stop the bleeding and stabilize his blood pressure. The ride to Andrea from Titan was a lot longer then the ride from Gurgurant to Titan. Three weeks longer. After a brief inspection of the train, the combined Human / Eldar group found that they were the only ones on board. The autopilot had been engaged, so there wasn't even a driver.

"I guess it's just us and Helios for three weeks," Bam said when the group had assembled in the food cart.

"I guess so," Michael said, sitting down. "Better get comfy."

"Sir," Franz said to Bam.

Bam looked up to see Franz holding a radio.

"Kyle, you beauty!" Bam yelled, jumping up.

"I'm Franz," he reminded Bam, handing the radio over.

Bam placed the radio on one of the many tables and keyed in the frequency to get John and Nina. When an Imperial voice answered, though, Bam was more than a little surprised.

"This is E-33, auxiliary to command battalion Alpha for the Messan 302nd, how can I be of service?" the voice asked from the other side of the radio.

After a few seconds, Bam found his voice and asked for John. To his further surprise, the tech said that he'd go and get _Lieutenant_ _Armstrong_. Bam was incredibly relieved when John answered.

"Bam? You there?" John asked.

"Yeah," Bam answered. "What's with the whole _Lieutenant Armstrong_ thing?"

John's end was silent for a few seconds, when he answered "It's a long story."

"Well, I'm on a long train ride," Bam told John.

"Well, I guess I'll start at the beginning," John sighed. "The cult was a dead end. Andra and his dad moved to Andrea, right after Andra's mother was found sacrificed to some chaos deity. Watch out for him, lots of people picked up and moved to Andrea with them, at least half the outer-habs. Also, about the whole Lieutenant thing, well, It's short for Second Lieutenant, which means I'm at the top of the hierarchy. Nina's a third Lieutenant, and you remember Anderson? Well he's in charge of an entire regiment of Imperial Guard."

"That wasn't very long," Michael said, leaning over Bam's shoulder.

"Oh, Michael, you're there, too?" John asked.

"Let's not get sidetracked. You still haven't told me why you have a military rank in an underhive Gang," Bam reminded him.

"Yeah, about that," John mumbled.

"No more excuses," Bam said forcefully. "Tell me. Now."

"Well, we have an army. With help from the Imperial former Drakes, we managed to get everything we needed. Hell, we've even got our own Tank Unit. It's not huge, but it's there," John said quickly.

Before Bam could reply, Michael was grabbed from behind by an Imperial gloved hand.

"Stay back!" Helios yelled, holding a knife to Michael's throat.

"Who forgot to take his _gakking_ knife?" Bam asked, putting emphasis into the curse word.

"Shut up!" Helios yelled, pressing the knife to Michael's jugular. "Do as I say or he dies!"

"Stop moving around like that," Jannaf told the deranged Imperial. "You'll tear the synth-flesh holding your organs in your torso."

"Shut it you alien bastard!" Helios raved. "I didn't need, or ask for your help!"

"But they saved your life!" Alar told him.

"I'm still here you know," John's voice said over the radio.

Throughout this all, Michael had his eyes closed, gathering a tremendous amount of warp energy. He let it all go, and knocked everyone in the carriage to the ground, including Helios, and the radio. Stepping over to where the Imperial soldier had fallen and placing a foot on the man's chest, he pointed a las pistol to Helios' face, and told him to calm down.

"Jeez, Michael," Bam said, standing. "When'd you get so powerful?"

"I dunno," Michael answered truthfully, stepping back from the fallen Guardsman. "I really didn't know I was so good."

"Incredible," Alar muttered, getting to his feet. "Only our strongest Farseers are that powerful."

"I think it was a fluke," Michael said, crouching down to check Helios' vital signs. The man coughed and sat up.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, sitting up and rubbing his head.

"Are you going to behave?" Michael asked the man.

"Do I have a choice?" he asked in answer.

"Well," Bam said, entering the conversation, "You behave, we treat whatever wounds you gained, and you help us, or we shoot you and throw you off the gakking train."

"What was the first option again?" Helios asked, obviously stalling. Bam loaded his gun, and a resounding click echoed through the carriage.

"On second thought, what needs doing, boss?" Helios asked Bam, eyeing the some fifteen odd weapons around him.

"That's what I thought," Bam said, lowering his gun. "Someone fix the gakking radio," Bam said, turning. "I'm gonna go get some sleep."

"Does he always curse like that?" Alar asked Michael.

"Nah, only when he stresses out," Michael answered.

"Hello? Hello?" John asked into the dead radio. "Somethin' must've happened," he told the small group that was fast becoming his retinue. The group consisted of Bam's brother Dalton and his friends, Nina, Danny, Lt. Anderson and Father Richardson.

"No duh," Danny said, emphasizing the 'duh'.

"You're not helping!" John yelled at him.

"No d-" Danny started, but was interrupted by Reno's hand clamping over his mouth. Danny had a condition that most parents would have killed their baby out of fear of mutation for. His attention span was small, and he had the mentality of a twelve year old. He was, though, one of the best mechanics in the Gurgurant Underhive.

"Shut it or go find something shiny to play with!" Reno said to Danny, releasing him.

Danny's face turned sour. "Your hand tastes like squig shit," he muttered.

"Yeah, and you're annoying as squig shit," Reno countered.

"Enough," John called over the two. Danny was about seventeen, short, skinny to a fault, and had back-length brown hair. Not many people knew what his eyes looked like, because he always wore tinted welding goggles.

"I think I'll go blow something up," Danny grumbled, leaving the room.

"He's going to try to blow up your bike again, you know," Elena told Reno.

"Crap!" He yelled, jumping up and following Danny. "You stay the gak away from my bike you crazy pyromaniac!" the group heard from the hallway.

After the door closed, John sighed. "I wish they'd grow up already," he mumbled to himself.

"Well?" Lt Anderson asked. "What now?"

"Yeah, what're we supposed to do now?" Dalton agreed.

"Haven't decided yet," John said. "Just go back and do what you were before."

A loud boom resounded through the train.

"Come on," Elena said to Dalton, standing up. "We'd better make sure he doesn't kill Danny."

The two left at a brisk pace, and Father Richardson chuckled.

"This is turning into some party," he said.

"Are you sure you're a priest?" Nina asked.

"Are you sure you and John are military strategists?" he countered.

"Touché' "John said, standing. "I'm gonna go and get some sleep. Anderson, wake me if something happens." He stopped at the door. "That doesn't include if Danny gets blown up, stabbed, shot, thrown off the train or all of the above." When he opened the door, smoke came billowing in, and the people inside could hear shouting and a **lot** of cursing coming from the left corridor, so John sighed and headed down the right.

After he left, Anderson asked Nina "Is he always like that?"

"Nah," Nina replied. "Only when he's stressed out."

Three days later, Bam and his sorted retinue had settled into the train. The Eldar held the first two carriages, Bam, Michael, Kyle and Franz held the third cart, and Helios stayed in the fourth cart, away from the noise, trying to fix the radio. The others saw him on a regular basis, though, as the other humans had taken residence in the dining car.

"I'm soooooo bored!" Michael yelled dramatically, flopping onto a large amount of pillows 'liberated' from the other carts.

"Watch another movie," Bam suggested, poking at a wound on Kyle's shoulder with a med-stick.

"If I see another movie, I'll fry my brain with bored-psyker-buildup syndrome," Michael said, reaching behind him for a book.

"That's not real, is it?" Franz asked from behind the bar, doing the dishes.

"It will be soon," Michael replied, grinning.

Alar was well and truly bored. Such a thing wasn't supposed to happen to Eldar, but his Rangers were a special case. Rangers left the craftworlds to seek adventure, and instead of finding it, he found a month long train ride on a human backwater planet while his brothers engaged in glorious combat as allies of the other gang members, shedding blood for the blood-god Khaine. The human movies he tried watching bored him to tears, he could only field strip his Shuriken Catapult so many times without being tempted to put a shuriken through his head, and if he read the Warrior's Code Book once more, he swore he **would** put a shuriken through his brain. His other seven rangers had all taken to the ride differently. Jannaf and Ulki both took to constant exercise, Ilick, Lers, Ifal and Cran had all gone into 'travelling comas', and Herrast was absolutely intrigued by the human movies. He'd watch them one after another, and it was really getting on Alar's nerves. He yearned to go into a travel coma, but they had drawn straws to see who got the drugs, and Alar had gotten the short one. He sighed and started to field strip his Catapult again.

Helios was tired, he was irritable, and he had to go to the bathroom. But he couldn't do anything about this, because he was almost literally covered in the parts of the busted radio. He enjoyed having something to pass the time, but he'd feel much safer if the gangers hadn't taken his weapons away. He resolved to work harder, and contact his Major with the news about the heretical gangers, but he had to fix the radio first. Flexing his exhausted fingers, he focused again on the objective at hand.

Tom was bored out of his mind. Two weeks he'd been on this Eldar ship, and he was sick of it. Lucca was having the time of her life, and had to be practically dragged from the library late every night. Tom had tried to read the books, but they were written in some fruity Eldar language, and Lucca had the only primer. He'd then thought about training with the Eldar troops. Of course, they were happy to help, but their training regiments were absolutely brutal. He couldn't believe how tough the deceptively fragile-looking aliens were. After training with them for two days, he'd found a new respect for the Xenos. And, after keeping pace (barely) for two days, they were starting to respect him a bit more. Sure, he couldn't fly the Swooping Hawks, jump like the Striking Scorpions, or scream like the Howling Banshees, but he managed to do well with the Guardian squads. One night, after a particularly fierce training session, a few of the Guardians Tom had been training with invited him back to their dorm for a few drinks. Being hopeful that now he'd finally been accepted by the alien soldiers, he quickly agreed. In the morning, when he woke up in Lucca's bathroom, he regretted it. The Eldar alcohol had been much stronger than he'd expected, and now they'd all think he was a weak drinker.

Life mocked him once again.

"I can't do it." Helios said in between mouthfuls. "I can't fix that gakking radio."

"That's cool; we're almost at Andrea anyway." Michael said, looking up from the screen of his GPS screen.

"How much longer is 'almost'?" Bam asked.

"About three more hours." Franz said, looking at the small screen.

"What!?" the three other men yelled, shocked.

"That's what this says." Franz said, looking up at the three.

"No it doesn't," Michael argued. "It says three more days. Doesn't it?"

"No, that's hours." Franz insisted.

"Shiiiiiiiiit!" Bam yelled loudly.

"Is something wrong?" Alar said, poking his head through the door to the adjoining cabin.

"Get ready to disembark; we've got three hours 'till we reach Andrea." Bam told the Eldar, standing and starting to get his shit packed.

"Three hours!?" Alar yelled, as shocked as the Humans had been. "That's it?"

"Yeah, well **someone **can't read a GPS." Kyle said, shooting daggers at Michael.

"Well excuse me for living." Michael said sarcastically, stuffing his bed roll into his bag.

"You are excused," Alar said to Michael, while turning to Bam. "The travelling coma will need at least four local hours to wear off fully."

"Wonderful. Just gakking wonderful!" Bam yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "Will they at least be able to walk?"

"Yes, they're bodies will work at forty-five percent efficiency until the four hours is up."

"Good, dress them up as refugees, whack some bandages on em', and say they're wounded."

"Yes sir," Alar said, retreating to the two Eldar cabins.

"Can I have my gun back now?" Helios asked.

"Sure, but I'm keeping the clips for it. And if you cause a scene when we run into the Guard, then you'll wish we did leave you for dead on the rail platform. Comprende?" Bam warned the man.

"Sir, yes sir!" Helios yelled, snapping to attention.

"Good." Bam said, handing the Imperial Guardsman his rifle. "Now when we get off, we gotta' run, head for the Drakes' Hideout, and hope that we don't get shit from cultists."

"Man, I thought you were psychic," Franz muttered to Michael.

"Well it's not like there are any minds around here to read!" Michael yelled indignantly. "Get off my back!"

When the train stopped, the group (including the badly disguised Eldar) exited the train into mass hysteria.

"The cultists are coming!" one man screamed, which seemed to whip the crowd into an even deeper frenzy. Bam was nearly crushed by the press of bodies all trying to get onto the train, and he was sure a few in the crowd had been. After a while, the human/Eldar group managed to get to an alley across from the platform.

"Why isn't the Imperial Guard organizing this?" Helios asked.

"They're busy elsewhere, fighting the cultists. Not just the ones from Gurgurant either," Michael said, eyes half closed, as if meditating. "There's cultists from every major city on this planet, and, I pray to the Throne these people are wrong, but some people are thinking that there are Chaos Space Marines leading the cultists. Wait, I'm not getting any from Titan. Weird..."

"Chaos Space Marines?" Franz said, obviously terrified. "How do we fight them?"

"We don't," Bam said. "We get to the Drake's base here, and help out any way we can."

"Wait, I'm getting thoughts from Drakes, too. All of them. They're all here! Alex, Damian, Cynthia, everyone!" Michael told them.

"That's good, right?" Franz asked.

Time for Michael seemed to stop. He left his body behind, and was dragged to the catacombs of the city.

He was brought before something. Something big. Something radiating evil like a scented candle.

Michael's spirit form's ankle was ensnared by a tendril of darkness.

_There is no hope for you _a voice like a million nails on a million chalkboards said, directly to Michael's mind. _Or your puny, misbegotten race._

Michael sent a wave of pure mind energy at the tendril, and raced back to his body. He reeled, as if struck. Something, deep bellow the city, had sensed the presence of another psyker. Something had attacked Michael, and by pure luck, he managed to get his consciousness back to his body, before the malevolent presence got him. Panting heavily, he stumbled backwards, covered in a cold sweat.

"What is it?" Bam asked.

"Something big," Michael answered, paler than usual, his eyes bloodshot. Then, he did something Bam hadn't seen him do in nearly three years. He took the silver tinted sun shades from his pocket, and put them over his eyes.

"That bad?" Bam asked.

"Worse," Michael answered.

The sun shades were Michael's fall-back net. He only wore them when panic and hysteria were an inch away, and the way his eyes had looked, he needed them more than when he learned the Black Ships of the Inquisition had gotten his sister.

_You are doomed _the voice whispered to him as the group headed into the city.

_Okie dokie, we're getting to the more current stuff now. Amazing how after two years of writing I'm still crap. Oh well._


	6. Chapter 5: Titan Battleground

**Chapter 5: Titan Battleground**

Titan was the biggest city on Mesa, hence the name. Mining facilities filled the northern and western sectors, worker habs in the south, and the market and entertainment were all in the eastern sector. The central sector was known as The Pillar. It was a giant totem pole that reached to the sky, with all the satellite relays attached to it.

That was Aaron's objective.

The cultists had emerged from nowhere, thousands of the general populace suddenly rose up and revealed themselves as the sick, twisted mutants they were. And their officer cadre, if those words could even be used, was holed up in the Central Pillar. Aaron hated that place.

"Sir, we're going to need wheels if we wanna' get there before next week," Kevin, Aaron's second, told him.

"Well first we need to get by the Imperials," his brother Jack reminded them.

"Fly a white flag, call a parley," Aaron ordered.

The Imperial lines had taken a beating, and now they were all facing two directions. Gangers at the front, cultists at the back. The gangers had stopped firing when the cultists showed up, and the Imperials had taken that as a go ahead to engage the cultists. The flag had been flying for ten minutes before the Imperials noticed, and it was a further ten minutes before the conditions were met. Aaron would walk out into no-man's land, unarmed, and meet with the Colnel -Commisair commanding the Guardsmen. They did.

Colnel-Commisair Kirk Demos was a lightly built man in his fifties with thinning grey hair and a grey handlebar moustache that twitched slightly when the Commissar was agitated. The moustache looked like a fish that had just been taken out of the water. In comparison to Aaron, who was a good head taller than the man, he wasn't much. But Colnel-Commisair Demos had charisma, and he genuinely cared about his men's well-being. And he despised gangers. With a violent passion.

"You called a parley," He bit out, trying to be civil. "What is it?"

"So genial," Aaron quipped. "How do your men stand to be out of your presence? It must pain them."

"I have not come to trade insults with a petulant child!" Demos roared. "Now what is it!?"

"You seem to have a small cultist problem," Aaron said, enjoying the fact that he'd gotten under the other man's skin so quickly.

"You noticed?" Demos said, each word dripping in sarcasm.

"Kinda' hard not to. What say we put our differences aside and slaughter them? In the name of the Emperor, of course."

"Of course," Demos replied snidely. "And when your men are in my ranks, do they shoot my men in the back?"

"No, I'd actually thought it would be more productive to shoot the cultists in the front," Aaron said, hiding his irritation.

The mini-vox in the Commissar's ear chirped, and he put his index finger to his ear, listening intently for a number of seconds.

"Fine, move your men to flanking positions," Demos said after some thought, turning back to return to his lines.

Joseph kept his head down. The gangers had joined their line forty minutes ago, and everything had gone to hell. A large group of mutants had come in from the East, and annihilated the lines. He was a soldier of the Imperial Guard, dammit! He didn't want to die cowering in a foxhole on this shit hole of a planet.

At that time, another body jumped into the hole with Joseph, a mangy looking ganger, wearing black leather and a tattered red bandana. He'd been hit in the arm by a solid stub round, and was bleeding.

"Arrgh, damn," he moaned, leaning against the wall.

"Are you okay?" Joseph asked, crawling over.

"Yeah, fine," the ganger replied.

"You're bleeding," Joseph pointed out.

"I haven't got time to bleed," the ganger said, getting up and firing a few shots.

Joseph pulled his last grenade out of his webbing. "Got time to duck?" he asked, throwing the grenade.

The two laughed as the grenade went off, and the shooting in the immediate area stopped.

"Nice throw," the ganger said. "I'm Colin."

"Joseph," Joseph said. "Now let me have a look at your wounds."

The two sat in the fox hole for what seemed like hours, until the reformed Imperial line caught up with them.

The line reformed, this time with an equal mix of Guardsmen and gangers. Aaron and Demos led the charge.

"Move, damn you! Do you want to live forever!?" Demos was screaming at his men.

"Come on, guys, we can do this!" Aaron yelled to his own men. "Charge!"

The force moved forward, shooting from the hip. The two sides came together with a clap like thunder. Gang knives and Imperial bayonets met mutant claws and teeth. The lines stopped for a moment, before the Imperial/Ganger line started gaining ground.

Aaron was exhausted. Everywhere he turned, more cultists lined up to die. If it wasn't for the Imperial Guard, the fight would have gone the other way, and the Gangers would have been swiftly overrun. But, thanks to a little 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' logic, Aaron managed to convince the Commissar in charge that the cultists posed a bigger threat.

"Wad, cover our right flank! Jack, the left!" Aaron ordered, pushing his clawed prothsisis through the neck of a cultist that was barely human any more. The arm given to him by the Eldar served as more than just a limb, but as a weapon as well. It had claws that extended from the fingertips, a small blade that came out of the top of his knuckles, a small shuriken pistol that concealed itself it the arm below the elbow, and had the strength of a power fist.

Jack fell to the ground, the liquefied remains of his brain exploding out the back of his head.

"Jack!" Kevin, Aaron's second in command, yelled, moving to the body of the young man.

"Kevin! Watch that flank, dammit!" Aaron yelled, shooting a cultist more tentacle than man through the eye.

"Your soldiers seem poorly disciplined," Commissar Demos remarked calmly from behind Aaron, firing a precise shot into the disorganized left flank, followed closely by a squad of Kasrkin Shock troops that reinforced the gangers position.

"We're gakking gangers, not Imperial Guard," Aaron shot back.

"That's a very interesting prothsisis," Demos remarked, firing this time to the right flank. "I've seen only one like it before," He continued, oblivious to the carnage around them. "On the left arm of the Eldar Harlequin Troupe Master Eldrad Ultwe."

"How do you know?" Aaron asked, blasting another cultist's face to goo.

"I'm the reason he needed it," the Commissar replied calmly, shooting a cultist off his feet without even looking.

"Can we talk about this later?" Aaron said, to preoccupied to even swear.

The screaming tide of mutants parted, revealing a ten foot high monster, wearing black and purple power armor with gold edging and symbols written in a blasphemous language that hurt to look at.

And it was charging right towards Aaron and Demos.

It let a deep, throaty cry from behind its helmet, and everyone, even the mutants stopped.

In it's one hand it held a power maul with an end as big as a man's head.

The other was a wicked looking lightning claw.

"Weak, puny Imperial dogs," it screamed.

"God Emperor!" one of the Kasrkins yelled, opening fire, followed quickly by the rest.

"Concentrate your fire!" Demos ordered. "All troops, take that Chaos Marine down!"

"You heard the man!" John said to his gangers.

Soon, the fallen Space Marine had a whirlwind of las, shuriken and solid stub fire raining down on him.

He barely flinched.

It was soon followed by the cultist officers.

"At least we don't have to go to the spire now!" Kevin yelled to Aaron, who grunted a response.

The heretics, heartened by the appearance of their leader, renewed their push. The Imperial/Ganger forces slowly gave ground.

The Chaos Marine howled as he charged, and barreled into the line near the Commissar and Gang Leader.

"For the Imperium!" Demos yelled, drawing his sword.

"For my skin!" Aaron yelled, loading another cartridge of shurikens into his arm, and chasing after Demos.

The Marine was easily twice the size of the two men, and better equipped, but with the men busy with the cultists and mutants, they were the only ones who stood even the slightest chance.

Before Demos could land a blow, the Chaos Marine swung his maul, smashing Demos square in the chest, and launching him in the other direction. Aaron ducked his next swing, and sidestepped the brute's lightning claw, firing off three shots from the bolt pistol in his hand and emptying his cartridge of shurikens with his opposite elbow.

The shurikens penetrated the beast's armor.

Screaming in rage, it swung it's claw arm.

Aaron instinctively brought his arm up as a shield, barely in time to stop the swing.

The look of surprise on the Chaos Marine's masked face was matched only by the one on Aaron's.

With speed he didn't know he had, Aaron's arm threw the lightning claw to the left, and punched with his Eldar arm, knocking the fallen one to the ground.

A bright flash of plasma incinerated the Chaos Marine's head.

Aaron looked up to see Demos leaning on a Kasrkin with his plasma pistol drawn, the barrel still smoking.

"That," he said weakly. "Is how you kill a traitor marine."

With the death of their leader, the Mutants and cultists stopped fighting like possessed men, and seemed to have condemned themselves.

The combined Imperial/Ganger army mopped up the rest of them without further incident.

"Why would they lie to us?" Aaron asked.

"Ours is not to ask why the Eldar are what they are, but to destroy them where they invade the Imperium space," Demos replied.

The two sat in Demos' command tank, discussing future alliances. Outside, the Drakes and Imperial Guard had come to a cease fire, but tensions still ran high.

"I am impressed though," Demos continued. "At the number of gangers you've acquired. You have to have half of the hive's teenage population with you."

"Just about," Aaron agreed. "The half that didn't turn to chaos, anyway."

"Your show of valor has proven to me that you are not traitors to the Imperium," Demos said, looking up from his paperwork and putting a hand to the bandages around his chest. "Not to Chaos, anyway."

"We don't work for the Eldar, we work with them," Aaron said. "As for the Tau, they're a little hard to get a hold of."

"That remains to be seen," Demos said, standing. "I'll arrange for an auto-séance with Lord Inquisitor Lastrer. He'll find the truth. Until then, you are to return to your hole, and remain there under our guard until the Inquisitor arrives."

"Wonderful, thanks," Aaron said sarcastically.

"If you want, I can take your blasphemous weapons away, too," The Commissar threatened.

Aaron ignored this, and signaled for his men to return to their base.

Joseph watched as Colin and the rest of the gangers walked away. The two had become, well, if not friends then at least good acquaintances. He didn't want to think about what the Inquisitor was going to do.

"Joseph, let's go," one of the last surviving members of his platoon said. "We're going back to the base in the city for reassignment."

Joseph sighed, and took one last look at the mining complex the Gangers were holed up in.

"Yeah. Let's go."

"Dammit!" Kevin yelled, punching a wall.

"Chill, Kev, you're gonna hurt yourself," Aaron said, plonking down on the same crate of grenades Bam had sat on a month before. "We fought off the Imperial guard and cultists for a month. A little more patience and we'll be fine."

The gang had returned to the base, and spirits were low. Half of their gang was dead, either to the Imperial siege, or to the bloody melee with the cultists. Ammo was low, wounded were everywhere, and everyone was exhausted.

"Why didn't we use these grenades?" Aaron asked his second in command.

"We did," he answered, leaning against the wall, rubbing his stubble covered chin. "That's all the leftover packaging."

Aaron sighed and hung his head. True, they had beaten the cultists, survived a month of Imperial bombardment and lost hundreds of kids, but that's what war is. They had the choice, and they all chose the gang. Aaron was almost positive he saw some of the people he knew when the heretics charged, but they were all mutated beyond recognition. Sighing, Aaron considered where they all stood. Imperials at their front, cultists at their back, Tau and Eldar at their flanks. He was screwed. Then something the Commissar had said clicked.

"Guy's, have any of you heard the word 'harlequin' before?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, I heard the Tau talking about them," one of the gangers said.

"What'd they say?" Aaron probed.

"I dunno," the drake shrugged. "All I caught was 'harlequin'. Must not have a word for it in their language."

Sighing, Aaron watched his first lead shot out of the sky like a falling meteor. Maybe he could get some answers out of the Inquisitor. He sullenly got up and shuffled towards his bunk, giving orders not to be disturbed until the Inquisitor arrived. Or the apocalypse happened. Either one was good for him.

_I don't like this chapter. I'm just too slack to re-write it. And I also put no thought as to what I'm going to do with Aaron and his ilk. Probably write them out later. Who can say?_


	7. Chapter 6: Discord

**Chapter 6: Discord**

Michael liked to think he'd grown out of the pyromaniac phase of his life, when he used to wear the glasses twenty-four seven. They'd even acquired a subtle bouquet of promethium gas and igniter powder. When Michael put the glasses on, it was like he was reborn.

And all his reborn self wanted to do was blow something up.

"I want to blow something up," he told Bam. "Really, really badly."

"Whatever happened to growing up?" He asked.

"Well, big psyker presence, city full of cultists, and glasses on. I need a release."

The group stopped. Around the corner was a barricade. A cultist barricade, with the symbols of chaos clearly displayed.

"What did you always say about karma rewarding those that did well?" Kyle asked Franz.

Michael grinned. "I'm going to need fuel, a lighting fuse, and at least three wheels."

The group split up, with Michael and the Eldar barring Alar and Jannaf staying to watch the barricade.

Bam and Helios needed to find fuel. They broke into a hab and started looking around. Bam found an alcohol cabinet, and stopped.

_Well, the rest of the place has been looted_ he thought, smashing the glass and shoving as many bottles as he could into his bag. _I wonder if Michael can use this. Meh, booze is booze_ he thought with a shrug.

He walked into the kitchen after Helios, who had his head stuck in the pantry, and spied the cook top.

An old promethium burning cook top.

"Stop thinking with your stomach and help me here," he said to the Guardsman.

Helios turned, his mouth stuffed with dried meat.

Grinning, Bam set to work draining the fuel into an old bottle he'd found on the floor.

Now he could keep the booze.

Alar and Jannaf got the job of finding the wheels. After breaking into their fourth hab, they found it. The hab had obviously been a preschool, and was littered with discarded toys and other things. In the middle of the room was an overturned tricycle.

"Do you think three wheels are going to be good enough?" Jannaf asked in their native language.

"Who cares," Alar replied, "I would've settled for one wheel."

Jannaf grabbed the trike, and the two headed back to the others.

Kyle and Franz had checked eight habs, twelve garages and a tool shed.

They didn't even know what they were looking for.

They had just broken into their ninth hab, when Franz stopped.

"I had a thought," Kyle said.

"There's a first," Franz said sarcastically.

"What if we got a shoelace and dipped it in promethium, would that be good enough?"

Franz stopped and turned back to his companion.

"Kyle, you're a genius."

"I know, now let's find some shoes," Kyle said, and the two began their shoe search.

Michael was a little rusty, but within five minutes, his bomb was ready to go.

"Okay, I'll need one of the Eldar to shoot the bottle when the fuse gets to the rim," Michael explained while he worked. "Seeing as there's nothing to make a boom, the fire won't spread unless we make it."

When it was done, Michael lit the fuse, and counted the Eldar down. He couldn't tell who it was, because of the disguise, but he hit the mark.

All the cultists were covered by burning cooking promethium.

It made them easy targets for the Eldar/Human group, and was mowed down by them.

"I love the smell of burning promethium in the morning," Michael said, pushing his sun shades back up his nose, in a very Lucca-ish movement, Bam thought.

"I hate the smell of burning human flesh," Kyle said. Or Franz. Bam still had trouble telling them apart.

"It doesn't smell completely human anymore," Michael told them, examining one of the corpses. "Human flash isn't as acrid, and the smoke is darker. These guys were definitely mutants."

"Well, at least we know that we're in the right place," Kyle or Franz said.

"I really gotta figure out which one of you is which," Bam said to him.

"Kyle tall. Franz short," the taller one, Kyle, said.

"Right," Bam said. "Well, let's keep going."

"Wait," Michael said, still crouched near the dead cultist.

"What now?" Bam asked.

"This cultists' a ganger," Michael said.

"What!?" the short one, Franz, exclaimed.

"I knew it!" Helios started ranting. "You're all gakking traitors! I knew it!"

"Shut up!" Michael yelled, standing up. "This guy was a ganger. That doesn't mean every other ganger is a cultist, all right?"

"We've always been loyal to the Emperor," Bam said, advancing on Helios. "And I'll shoot you if you say otherwise again."

"All right, all right!" Helios said, throwing his hands up in defeat.

"It is too bad the other cultists were too badly burned to tell," Jannaf said.

"I agree. We need to know what's going on in this Emperor damned hive," Bam said.

The group began the arduous trek into Andrea's underhive.

John hated trains. Hated the way they looked, hated the way they smelled, and really hated the way he got motion sick on them.

Nina, on the other hand, was on top of the world.

"I just love trains, you know," she said for the hundredth time. "Something about them. I don't know what it is, though."

"That's the twenty-third time you've said that," John said to her. "And I've said this twenty-two times. This is the last time I'll say it; I DON'T CARE."

"Don't be so harsh on the girl, John," Father Richardson said.

"Yeah, just cause you're in a shitty mood," Nina mumbled.

John sighed. A month on the train, cramped in with Nina, Anderson, the priest, Bam's brothers, and the other two juves. His nerves were close to breaking point. Even though they got the first carrige to themselves, it was still too cramped. And John hated cramped.

"When did you become such a moody bastard?" Nina asked.

"He doesn't like trains," Reno told her.

"I gakking hate them," John said.

"We don't care," Nina said.

"Get stuffed," John said, getting up and leaving the compartment.

He walked through the compartments, giving the occasional greeting to the gangers he knew, or the Imperial Guard that had been a little more forthcoming than the others. He stopped in the cargo compartment, which was off limits to the other soldiers, and stood, staring out the small window. All the men and women on this train were his responsibility. Bam was going to have a field day. He'd never hear the end of this, and worst of all, now he was a member of the Imperial Guard. That meant that when this was all over, and the Messan 302nd Infantry went off world, he'd have to go, too.

John sighed, and leanned on the window frame. He was alone with his thoughts, when he heard a rustling behind him. Turning casually, so's not to seem like he'd heard anything, and began walking out of the carriage. He heard the noise again, and leapt around the corner, tackling the source.

A young Fire Man, probably only aroung eleven or twelve, squirmmed beneath him, kicking at John.

"Stop!" John was yelling. "Hold still, I'm not going to hurt you!"

The child got out from under Joh, and ran into a stack of crates, smashing his head on the floor as he fell. John got up and gave him a nudge with his boot.

"Great. This is just what I need," John said to himself.

The kid had been unconcious for about an hour, John sitting next to him the whole time. He'd thought of bringing him to the Fire Men's carridge, but they were already a little reluctant with the alliance, so John decided to just wait it out. The little Fire Man had no identification on him, and was dressed in rags. The only thing he'd had was an old combat knife. The knife was twenty centimetres long, with red leather wrapped around it.

With a moan, the kid began to stir.

"You done napping?" John asked him.

With a start, the kid sat up.

"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you," John said.

The kid still looked at John like an animal caught in the headlamps.

"Hungry?" John asked, holding out a rations bar. "They taste like reconstituted ass, but they're good for you. Here, take it."

The kid darted forward to snatch the bar from John's hand. He opened it and took a bite, spitting it out a second later.

John couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, they are pretty crap. Here, try this one."

The kid took this one in the same way, but took a much smaller bite. His eyes lit up, and he crammed the rest into his mouth.

"Want another one?" John asked, holding out the bar.

As the kid reached for it, John pulled it back.

"Ah, not so fast," He said. "I want to ask a few questions. First tell me your name."

"The kid eyed him warily. "Aeris."

"Alright, Aeris, what are you doing back here. It's a restricted area." John asked.

Aeris looke like he wasn't going to answer.

"I guess I'll just eat this bar on my own, then," John said, opening the packet.

"Nuh!" Aeris cried. "Hiding! From the others."

"Why?" John asked.

"I'm too young. Shouldn't be here. That's what the elders told me."

"So why did you come?" John asked.

"I want to fight," he said.

"When we get to Andrea, I'm going to find you a safe place. You'll stay there untill we finish," John said getting up and chucking the bar at Aeris.

_Bit of a short one here. This is it, this is where the shit hits the fan. This is where I got bored of the way it was going, and took it a completely diffrent direction. Screw espionage, up with all-out war! Subtlety's for wimps! BOOH YAH!_


	8. Chapter 7: Pieces of the Puzzle

**Chapter 7: Pieces of the Puzzle**

Fire fell from the sky, and at the centre of the flames sat bright red drop pods. The pods hit the ground outside of the northern out-habs of Nova. Thunderhawks, painted bright red and bearing the blood drop flanked by wings motif of the Blood Angels.

The lead thunderhawk landed and dropped a Razorback tank, with the antenae of a command vehichle. The tank rolled towards the cooling drop pods, followed by five other Rhino tanks.

The Blood Angels Second company, the Watchers, had made planetfall.

Veteran Sergant Maris watched as his squad of newly promoted marines spread out into cover. This was their first mission as fully fledged marines, and the whole squad was edgy.

"Relax," Maris said over the vox link. "There's nothing to panic out about. You've all done this before."

The truth was that this was Maris' first planetary assault as Sergant of fourth squad. This was his first anything as Sergant. He'd just been promoted, and the yellow sigil on his shoulder was still fresh. His sword was fresh from the armory, still fresh in his hand. And his yellow helm still surprised him. Now not only was he connected to his squad, but to command as well, not to mention the battle barge Litany of Wrath and the fortress monestary on Baal itself.

He was quickly getting used to it, the same way his squad was getting used to his command. He smiled as they took up a tight defensive perimiter.

They were Astartes, and nothing surprised them.

Nova was little more than smouldering wreckage as the marines of fourth squad picked their way through the rubble. They were part of an advance scouting party that had been sent into the city for preliminary investigations. Maris raised a closed fist to signal a stop while he consulted his auspex. According to the most recent maps he and his squad were approaching the slums of the hive. Amazingly the wreckage they had been travelling through had fallen clear of the hive after what initial analysis indicated was heavy orbital bombardment.

The auspex read twenty friendly units to either side of them, both the scout squads in flanking positions. The untested recruits had seemed nervous to Maris, more than half never having seen combat off of Baal Secondus, and definatley not among the ranks of the Blood Angels.

Mais gave a quick prayr of thanks to the Emperor that no hostiles were evident, and signalled his squad to move ahead and secure the route into the ruined city.

The group travelled for ten more minutes in silence, Maris brooding over the obvious lack of enemies. Waiting was the real mind killer, men wearing themselves out waiting for something to jump out at them. Maris checked the auspex again. Only nineteen other friendlies.

Maris clicked his vox-bead. "Sergant Kalic, one of your men isn't reading on the auspex. Please return."

A few seconds passed before Kalic, a veteran of the 10th Scout Company, replied. "Sergant Maris, this is Kalic. Scout Leeland has disapeared. Please advise."

Maris cursed. They hadn't even made it to the hive proper yet, and already he was short a scout. His first mission as a Sergant, while he had everything to prove, and he was already inexplicably down a trooper. Maris made a descision.

"Brother Kalic, apoint four of your more experienced scouts to find Scout Leeland. I will reprimand him when our mission is completed. The rest of us will carry out our mission as per Captain Rafen's orders."

"Yes, Brother Sergant," Jacob aknowledged. Brother Scout Sergant Kalic had seniority over Maris, which both were aware of. However, members of the 10th Company all had to obey the orders of a Marine of the first, second, third or fourth companies, the Veterans, Watch, Arsenal and Fleet respectivley. Brother Kalic was also somewhat of a legend among the 10th, and Maris was a little uncomfortable with his position over a minor hero such as him. Never the less, as Maris gave the order to form up, he swore not to lead his men to death like his last mission.

Andrea's underhive, unlike the upper hive, was teeming with life, mostly refugees. Bam and his group moved tenativley through the pulsing mass of bodies, quickly retreating to a deserted alley. The Andrean Drakes made their base in the old sewer system, the only decent sized entrance to which was more than four blocks away. Four blocks full of refugees liable to detect a group of xenos wandering through their midst.

"What in the name of the Golden Throne is going on here?" Bam asked, sliding down a wall into a sitting position. "The up hive is deserted, and it's full down here!"

"Think about it," Michael said, keeping lookout onto the busy street. "The up hivers have the cash to get away on private fliers and crap. The down hivers have to catch the free train, and there's a whole lot of down hivers, and not many trains."

"He speaks sense," Alar agreed from the other end of the alley, keeping watch there. "Which makes our mission harder." He added, looking at all the people.

"They all look the same," Jannaf complained, looking out at the seemingly endless flow of people. "I don't think there are this many beings in all of Craft-World Iyadan!"

"Yeah, that's not a very xeno-phobic comment," Helios said. "The fact remains, you have no way to get through the crowds without, eventually, being caught out."

Michael grinned his 'evil grin', the one he used when he did only his most vicious practical jokes.

The group all turnned to the direction of shouting from the crowd.

"God Emperor! They're coming!"

"Cultists! Run!"

"We're all going to die!"

The crowd started moving a lot faster, the Arabites left in charge helpless against the tide of paniced human bodies. In a few minutes the streets had become deserted.

"You did that, didn't you?" Helios asked Michael, awe in his voice.

"That's nothing," the psyker bragged. "I once made a ganger levitate from one side of a bar to another, without crushing him."

The group was free to move, and were about to pick up and move, when an inhuman screech, impossibly loud and long for human lungs, split the quiet air.

"What the gak was that?" Franz asked softly.

One long, scything claw dug into the corner of the building Alar was leaning on, four metres above the tall Eldar's head. The Eldar quickly jumped off the wall and brought his concealed weapon up. A lean, towering, barely humanoid form followed the claw. In one hand it held a sword, longer than Bam was tall, the other was the claw they'd seen, and a third ended in a tentacle which Bam had no doubt was strong enough to whip him in half. The deamon's elongated head had smaller tentacles falling off it, much like dreadlocked hair. It openned it's slit of a mouth, and gave out another shrill cry, so loud the entire group, human and Eldar alike, were forced to cover their ears.

"Run!" Alar screamed when the deamon had stopped.

Bam had no intention on doing so. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Why run? In his mind he heard it whisper promises of power and wealth, of seas of Messa's most beautiful women. All he had to do was give his soul to Slaanesh. Why not? He didn't need it, why hold onto something so utterly useless?

Just as Bam was about to commit his undying soul to the warp, another noise distracted him. A roar like an angry animal, of the most primal hate and fury shook the ground. The deamon in the alleyway entrance looked away, and for a split second it's hold over the humans broke, before it was tackled by an equally huge deamonic form. This one was the colour of fresh blood, with great leathery wings, and horns as long as Bam's arm. The huge berzerker smashed it's axe, a terifying weapon from the warp into the Saaneshi deamon from above, it's blade clattering off the other deamon's cursed sword.

"Time to go!" Jannaf urged the humans, who needed no further goading. The group ran into a warzone, lithe, gracefull deamons in the shape of naked women doing battle with hulking, barely human looking deamons all the colour of blood.

"What the hell is going on!?" Kyle shouted, the group taking a series of alleyways seemingly at random.

A pack of deamon hounds began chasing the Humans and Eldar.

"Explainations later! Run!" Alar shouted, forcing them on.

The group outpaced the deamons, barely keeping ahead of their slavering jaws. Bam looked ahead to see a dead end. He pointed this out to the Eldar.

"There is a sewer pipe that will take you away from this place! Use it to escape!"

The group made it to the man hole, which Jannaf and Ulki manhandled the grate off the hole, and exchanged some heated words with Alar.

"Go," Alar urged the humans. Helios was first through the hole, followed by Kyle and Franz. Then Jannaf and Ulki gave one last word to Alar, and jumped into the hole themselves.

"Move, Bam!" Michael called from the grate.

"What are you waiting for?" Bam called to Alar and the rest of the Eldar from the grate which Michael had descended into.

"This is where our entwined destinies split, Bam Lockeheart!" Alar answered, throwing off his camo-cape to reveal bright yellow and purple patterning. "I haven't been entirely truthfull, but Jannaf and Ulki will explain all! Go! Gor the good of both our races, go!"

Bam nodded, and descended into the sewer. His last view of the other Eldar warriors was them standing valiantly against a hundred deamon warriors before the grate closed and obscured his vision.

He dropped to the ground, and the five beings ran. They ran until the sounds of battle died away, and all Bam could hear was the laboured breathing of the group itself. They'd become unfit on the train with their lack of any excerscice.

"We need to keep moving," Jannaf said quietly, obviously shaken over the deaths of his friends.

"Just a second," Bam said, drawing his bolt pistols and aiming one at each of the Eldar. "You have some explaining to do."

The Blood Angels of fourth squad had reached their objective, the ruined hive spire of Nova, without so much as seeing an enemy. The four scouts he'd sent to find the missing scout Leeland, however, had not been heard from in some time.

The main group had set up a perimiter while Brother Scout Sergant Kalic tried to contact them.

"Brother Pavil, come in, over," he said into his vox link. He noticed Maris walking over to him.

"No response?"

"No, brother. It may be the debris blocking the signals, but I believe we may be being hunted."

Maris' brow raised behind his helmet. "Hunted?"

"Yes brother Sergant. I can't tell you why, but I feel like we've been watched since we entered the hive proper. I don't think it's powerful enough to take down a marine in full power armour."

"But an inexperianced, lightly armoured scout?" Maris finished.

"Exactly," Kalic agreed. "I think it may not be what we're after, though. I request permission to remain behind to deal with the stalker."

"Agreed. I'll tell Brother Nerian to continue the mission, while we destroy whatever's stalking us."

"We?" Kalic asked, a little surprised.

"We," Maris agreed, calling Brother Nerian over. "This bastard owes me five scouts. I plan to collect."

An hour after the rest of the marines had moved on Maris stood, his sword at the ready, his knife drawn in his other hand.

Maris sifted through the information the learning machines in the fortress monestary on Baal had placed inside his head. He recalled some nobles of the hive cities would suit up in specially designed combat armour, and travell to the deepest depths of the hive to hunt it's denizens. Some became deranged and began hunting humans, looking for a more difficult target. These nobles were commonly referred to as Spyrers. Maris was convinced this was what he and Kalic were dealing with. He told the scout as much, who nodded his agreement.

"I suspected as much," he said, pulling his goggles on. The goggles saw ultra-violet, were heat sensitive, and had the same targetting tech that his helmet had. Spyrers were supposed to have some of the bast technology money could buy, so Maris wouldn't be surprised if it had some sort of cloaking device.

Maris glanced at his auspex.

"Don't bother," Kalic advised. "If it is what we think it is, then it'll be useless."

Maris nodded and attatched the small machine to his belt. The waiting was starting to fry his nerves.

Another fifteen minutes passed. Maris was really becoming impatient now, he just wanted to get this over and done with. His vox link cliked.

_"Brother Sergant, we have a slight problem!"_

Maris started. That was Nerian, and he could hear sustained bolter fire in the background.

"Brother Nerian, come in!" Maris said into the link.

A few seconds passed, almoast a minute, before the vox clicked again.

_"Brother Sergant, this is Nerian! We're being fired upon by an unknown source! Projectiles seem to be bolter shells! I'd say we found what we were looking for!"_

"Then what's the problem?"

_"We're a little overwhelmed here!"_

Maris cursed quietly and switched the channel of his vox to the base channel.

"Captain Rafen, come in please, this is Brother Sergant Maris in Hive Nova, please respond."

"I think the debris may be blocking the long range signals," Kalic said, scanning the surroundings.

"Well I have to try. If I don't --"

Maris was cut off by something barrelling into him with the force of a speeding Rhino.

"Maris!" Kalic shouted, opening fire just above the prone marine.

Maris' helmet malfunctioned from the force of the impact for a split second before it was torn off by his assailent. Maris lashed out at the nothingness with his sword, which clanged off something metal. A flicker above Maris signaled that the Spyrer had moved.

"Brother Kalic, it's coming your way!" Maris shouted, rolling to his feet.

What he saw was the most fantastic sight he'd ever seen.

The scout had dropped his pistol and drawn his war knife, almoast as long as the miniature chainsword in his other hand, and was dancing with an invisible partner. Kalic's blade struck home, and the Spyrer's cloaking systerm fizzed and went offline, leaving a very exposed metal monster standing inbetween two very angry Space Marines.

Maris plunged his blade into the craeature's back, and was rewarded with an ear-splitting shriek of pain ans the blade slid through the Spyrer. Kalic wasted no time, and with a spinning flourish seperated the Spyrer's head from it's body.

Maris stood breathing a moment, his long black hair billowing in the wind, before a tiny voice brought him back to his senses.

_"Brother Sergant Maris, come in!"_

Maris scrambled back to his discarded helmet, which was useless due to the four deep gouges along the faceplate, and took the vox earpiece out of it.

"Brother Maris. Is that you, Captain?"

_"Maris! This is Brother Captain Rafen! What took so long?"_

"Just saying hello to the locals, sir. The rest of the team has hit a snag, and are pinned down. I request immediate assistance."

_"Maris, I'd love to, I really would, but I'm up to my eye-balls in Tau soldiers out here, so we're a little preocupied."_

"Tau?" Kalic asked, looking up from examining the dead Spyrer. "What are they doing here?"

"What's with the Tau, Captain?" Maris asked into his vox.

_"I have no idea! They've never openned fire like this on Imperial forces, so I think that they may have mistaken us for your Traitor Marines."_

"Right Captain. Send reinforcements as soon as you can. Maris out."

Maris sighed and tried to raise the other marines in his squad. When there was no response Maris sighed.

"I've heard that sigh before. We're on our own, aren't we?" Kalic asked, still squating next to the Spyrer corpse.

"Yes, we are. But I'm going to find the rest of my squad. I'm not letting this happen again."

"You just have terrible luck with this sort of thing," Kalic said playfully. "We killed our stalker, lets gut us some traitors."

Maris smiled and nodded. "I couldn't agree more."


	9. Chapter 8: Xenos, Traitors and Purity

**Chapter 8: Xenos, Traitors, and Purity**

"Talk. What the feth's going on?" Bam demanded, his guns trainned on the two surviving Eldar, who reacted with a stunned silence.

"Now!" Bam demanded.

"Dude, chill," Michael said, trying, unsuccessfully, to calm down the angry young man.

"Yeah, what crawled up your ass and died?" Helios added unhelpfully, earning a glare from Michael from over the top of his shades.

"I'm sick of all this conspiracy grox-shit!" Bam yelled. "I want to know it all! Now! I'm sick of being strung along like some child! I am the head of the Black Drakes gang, I clawed my way to the top from the rock-bottom, now I demand answers!"

Franz and Kyle racked their las-guns.

"You da man, boss," Kyle said.

"You say jump, we say how high," Kyle agreed.

Bam grunted. "Good. And now our friends have some explaining to do."

The Eldar, after conferring quickly between each other, nodded.

"As you wish, mon'keigh," Jannaf agreed at last. "We were ordered to do as much."

"It all starts around ten-thousand of your human years ago," Ulki began. "When the one called Horus began the war that nearly made your race extinct. There was one called Fulgrim, that led your early Space Marines in battle. He also fell to the temptation of the dark god Saanesh. After he was killed, he sat at the side of this dark god, until now. He plans to use this world, a weak point in the material universe sitting on what we call 'ley-lines', to return to this plane of existance in corperal form so he may seek vengance for his death."

The Eldar finished with a deep breath. The humans sat in silence for a long moment before Helios broke it.

"If we're going up against a demon primarch, I want my clips back."

The other four humans burst into laughter, the tension broken, and were soon joined by Helios.

"You find this funny!?" Jannaf asked incredulously. "You mon'keigh are stupider than we thought!"

"No, it's not that," Bam explained, still laughing. "Sometimes you just have to laugh."

"What are nwe gonna do though?" Michael asked, moving his shades to wipe away a tear.

Bam shrugged. "What can we do?"

Helios snorted. "A few seconds ago you were the big ganger boss, ready to take on the universe. Now you just say, 'what can we do?' We fight! And if the Emperor wills it, we die! That's life, and this is a dark time! This is the god-damned time of ending, lets fething end it!"

Bam had to stop a moment. No one used the phrase _Time of Ending_, it was as forbidden as preaching another religion. Time of Ending implied that the Imperium was on it's last legs. Granted, it most likely was in Bam's opinion, it was still one of the most unforgivable heresies. A heresy Bam was ready, he decided, to contribute to.

"You're right," he said, determination returning. "This is it. This is crunch time for the Imperium. It's time to rock-and-fething-roll! I'm done skulking around, being gakked with! It's time to gak right back! You say Fulgrim wants back into this dimension?"

The Eldar nodded.

"The he'll just have to go through every gakking Black Drake on this planet, and every Emperor fearing citizen from here to Holy Terra itself, because it's our Imperium as much as it is the Emperor's, so who else is gonna protect it? Let's find the Drakes of this damn hive and meet up with John so we can blow this bastard back to the warp!"

The Humans let out a cheer, and began heading further into the tunnels, leaving the Eldar to converse between themselves.

"I swear I'll never understand humans," Jannaf said in their language, pulling off his camo-cape to reveal a black and purple skintight suit, and absolutely huge gun.

"I swear I'll never understand why we were ordered to keep them alive," Ulki answered, pulling off his own cape to reveal a bright red and blue suit with two blades hanging off a belt. "Orders are orders though. Let's make sure they don't kill themselves before the get to their precious 'crunch time', though, shall we?"

The Eldar duo, the Death Jester and the Harlequin, set off to catch up with the four excited humans.

The good thing about Andrea's underhive was that the sewers led right to it,and before long Bam and the rest found their way to an entrance into the Andrean Drakes base, which was more like an underground fortress. The twin psykers, Damien and Cynthia, ran the joint like a military operation, which, inlike Aaron's xenoist group in Titan, was pure Imperial. Thankfully, the guards that the group passed recognized Bam and Michael as the primogenitors of the gang, and were wary enough of the skill of both of them to leave them be. Bam was feared for his skill with a blade all throughout the underhives of Messa, and the semi-rogue psyker Michael's power was just as well-talked about.

Bam kept walking through what was obviously Drake territory, crates and sandbags lined up everywhere on the sewer walkways, half of which with drakes behind them. Someone must have voxed ahead, though, as none offered much more than a relieved greeting to the humans and wary glances at the Eldar.

"Makes you feel right at home, huh?" Michael said cheerily.

Kyla and Franz agreed, and Helios grunted assent. Bam, however, couldn't help but feel like an outsider. True, the entire gang was his, but he couldn't help but long for the old days, where it was just Him, Aaron, John, Michael and the girls against almost all of Hive Gurgarant.

The six continued to what was obviously the command hub, a central sewer connector, a place that all the pipes eventually led to. All the other pipes barring one had been sealled by either giant steel caps or solid rockrete.

In the centre of it all, the twin psykers of Andrea issued orders into a vox on a large raised command pulpit, until the noticed the group.

"Well, look at what the Kroot dragged in," Damien, who the gifts of the warp hadn't been kind to, said sarcastically. The man was in his early twenties, yet looked almoast forty. His dark brown hair was greying, his skin looked thin and pasty, and his eyes had large bags under them.

"Good to see you, boys," Cynthia, who looked nothing like her brother, added. The years of warp-craft had been better to her, although she did look to be at least in her late twenties. Her black hair was short in the back and long in the front to conceal a jagged scar over her right eye she'd recieved during her fateful escape from the Black ships of the Inquisition.

"Throne, Michael, you look good," She added, noticing how young the fire man still looked. "You have to share your secret."

"Healthy eating, stimulation of the pores, out-running slavering hordes of deamons and spending all my spare time with xenos," Michael replied, hugging the twins at the same time.

All twenty of the semi-sanctioned psykers the Drakes gave sanctuary to had escaped because of the sacrafice of Michael's younger sister, and only through much self sacrafice. They all shared a bond that went more than just the emotional, they were all bonded on an imaterial level, in a way only psykers could.

"Allow me to introduce my companions," Michael said, stepping back. "You know Bam, the two gangers are Kyle and Franz, they're from Titan, Helios is a Kasrkin Sergant from Cadia, and Jannaf and Ulki are Eldar who for reasons we can't figure out want to help us."

The twins greeted each in turn warmly, including the two Eldar, who reacted in non-vocal surprise.

Damien excused himself for a moment, saying he had something important to get.

"So, tell me everything," Cynthia demanded, sitting down at the command table, and indicating that the group should do the same.

Michael wasted no time telling of their dramatic escape from Titan, their train ride, the chase through Andrea and finally, the Eldar's revalation. Bam couldn't help but notice, however, that he left out the part about the Ganger/Cultists they'd fought when they first arrived in the hive.

Cynthia sat brooding a moment, before sighing. "It's true, Deamons are running rampant," she said with remorse. "We failled to notice the cults to _two_ chaos gods that popped up, and now we're the last stronghold of the Imperium left in this hive."

"Where are the Guard? The PDF? The Emperor forsaken Arabites!?" Helios burst out.

"Most of them are down here with us," Damien said, reappearing, holding a sword, which he threw at Bam. "Here, you forgot this last time you were here."

Bam deftly caught the sword, sparking a series of sense memories. The sword was the same one he thought he'd lost years ago in the hive when they were trying to get a sect dug in.

"You kept this, all these years," Bam said reverently, drawing the Power Sword his uncle had bequeathed upon him when he was still a Juve. "It looks exactly the same as when I lost it."

Damien nodded, sitting next to his sister. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a stasis field that'll work in a sewer?"

"Thank you so much," Bam said, sheathing the sword.

"Well, now you have two fancy blades to hang off your belt," Michael said, leaning back in his seat.

"Two?" Bam asked.

Michael nodded. "Yeah, that fancy xenos knife Aaron gave you when we were leaving Titan. Are you telling me you still haven't openned it?"

"And you did?" Bam asked, rooting around his pack for the long parcel Aaron had given him. Michael simply tapped his temple, reminding Bam of the obvious.

Bam found the knife, and unwrapped it. Sure enough it was xenos, and beautifully shapped, with an elegant hilt and a gracefull, straight edged blade. The Eldar said they didn't make blades like that, so Bam had to assume it was of Tau origin.

"Pretty," Cynthia said with awe in her voice. "Who would I have to kill to get my hands on something like that?"

Bam laughed, and attatched the knife to his belt above his sword. "Most likely Aaron."

Damien cleared his throat. "Down to business. We're trapped. It's that simple. Deamons to our front, cultists to our back. There's less deamons, but they're stronger, and there's more cultists, but they're just human. What do we want to do? We have to go through one if we want to meet John and everyone else at Nova, so now we choose who."

"How'd you know about Nova?" Bam asked, recieving a mental tap on the head. "Oh yeah, psyker."

"Deamons," Jannaf said. "They killed our Troupe'. It's only fitting we seek vengance."

"Cultists," Helios argued. "Like the witch said, they're just people."

"Oh, he is so Cadian," Kyle whispered to Franz, who burst into a fit of quiet giggles.

"Flip a coin," Michael suggested. "Heads, Deamons. Tails, Cultists."

The group agreed to let chance decide, and Bam flipped. The whole group held it's breath as the coin flew through the air and landed on the table, the tails side facing up.

Cultists had taken over most of the levels from the sewers to the surface, which presented itself as a real problem for the Drakes. How to get through half a hive's population when they were all dangerously deranged and ready to kill the first thing they saw moving? No one could come up with a plan except 'shoot our way through hard and fast and hope no one dies'. It was a good plan, until they took into account the hundreds of other Drakes that would need moving as well. The twins weren't about to leave anyone behind, not even the wounded.

Transportation was another matter entirely, as the closest trains were at least ten kilometers away, and three up. There was no way they'd make it on foot, not through half the hive.

"There's a truck depot up one level on the base level of the up-hive," Damien explained, pointing at a map Bam couldn't make any sense of. "We're here, and we want to be here. We need to take the sewer lines as far as possible, and at the exit set up heavy guns so we can get everyone out. We break into the truck depot, kill whoever guards it, and get as many as possible loaded up. If we have to make two trips, we will, but there should be enough trucks. Questions?"

"Where'd you get the map? It doesn't even look like Andrea," Bam asked, still unsure of what they were doing.

"Just shut up and follow our lead, oh illustrious leader," Cynthia teased. "Besides, you're just an add on here, we're in charge anyway. Shoot anything shooting us and leave the thinking to the people with six senses."

"Fair enough," Bam said, leaning back. "Don't like to lead from the rear anyway."

"Good, lead from the front, come in the first wave with me," she offered.

"I thought Damien would lead," Michael said, his brow furrowing behind his shades.

"I'm a little fragile these days," Damien told them. "I abused my power for so many years it's left my mortal form not much more than a husk, about to break."

_That's what you get for frakking around with your gifts_ Michael sent psychically. _We warned you not to over-use your powers, and what do you do? Become a fething infirm right when we need you most!_

The room went cold, ice creeping across the command pulpit from the enraged psyker.

"I'm weak physically," he said, floating a foot into the air. "That doesn't mean I can't take care of myself."

The others shrank back. Damien and Michael had history, and managed to butt heads at the worst possible times. Weather or not Michael would rise to the bait would show who'd done the most growing in the last few years.

"I can see that," Michael said, pulling his hand off the table where frost had formed over it. "Now stop showing off for my benefit and sit down before you exhaust yourself."

The young-old psyker complied.

"You look old but act like a teenager," Cynthia said. "It's embarassing. Act your age, which _should_ be somewhere in the middle."

Damien looked like a petulant child for the rest of the breifing, which was taken over by his sister. Afterwards the visiting Humans and Eldar were given accomadation and left to rest until the mass exodus that was being planned. The two Eldar were given one room, Helios, Kyle and Franz given another, and Bam and Michael given a third.

Bam and Michael's room looked like an old worker-superviser's old bunk, with a bunk bed and two desks with reading lamps. Apart from that everything else was either taken to make barricades or used as fuel in drums to keep the many gangers warm. Even the desks chairs were gone, taken for a barricade somewhere.

"Hell-gun's top bunk!" Michael shouted, throwing his pack into a corner and jumping onto the top bunk.

"Take it, I'm too old for that stuff anyway," Bam said, taking off his sword belt and placing it on one of the desks, then emptying out his pockets onto the table next to it.

"Party pooper," Michael said. He was obviously excited to be around other psykers again, as the Arbites kept stricter watch over the rogue psyker population of Gurgurant.

Bam sat on his bunk and began untying his boots. "You're twenty-two years old, don't you think you're too old for 'bunk beds'?"

"You're just stressed, calm down," Michael said from above Bam.

He lied back and stared at the bottom of Michael's bunk and began to reflect. Since Titan this was the first time he'd actually gotten to reflect on things. He wondered if Aaron was still alive, or even if there was still a Hive Titan left. Rumors were flying around that Hive Nova Secondus had been bombed off the face of the planet, so Bam was a little worried. Refugees apparently from Nova were supposed to have made a base in the ash-dunes between Nova and Andrea, and seeing as Andrea was currently overrun with the taint of Chaos, Bam didn't like his chances either way.

He drifted off to sleep thinking about the last time he'd seen Lucca, and wondering where she and Tom were.

The Eldar ship had gone into a state of preperation for war. The drills for the Aspect Warriors and Guardian Squads training regime had gone into overdrive, and Tom found he was still keeping up. He was definatley fitter, three months aboard an alien war-vessel doing nothing but training and eating protien gruel had really toned his muscles and given him confidence. Lucca, however, still had to be dragged from the library every night cycle, but had also begun training for a few hours a day, so she was starting to get a little fitter, but apart from that the results had been slim to nil. Just a large ammount of lore about the fall of the Eldar race and legends about Eldar Gods fighting Deamon-Gods in the webway, not a lot else. There was a large ammount that was forbidden to them that concernned the last few millennia, and Lucca couldn't help but be curious, but the librarians all had nasty looking swords, so neither Tom or Lucca were in a hurry to piss them off.

Tom was headding to the training deck one day when Lucca caught him, out of breath and doubled over.

"The captain said he wanted to see us," she gasped in between breaths.

Tom nodded and walked with Lucca to the bridge. They'd both been to the bridge numerous times since boarding the Alien vessel, so they knew the way.

The bridge was a series of suspended platforms looking out a huge transperisteel window at space. Usually the space in front of the ship was completely empty, save for the odd day Messa went through it's planetary orbit and went past the view port. Today was one of those days, but as they watched the planet slowly drift through it's orbit while they climbed to the captain's platform a number of cruisers and smaller ships blinked into existance in the space.

"What the hell's going on?" Tom asked loudly as the duo finally came up to the platform.

What greeted them was something new. Tennel and Eldrad both wore masks, and a number of other masked Eldar were with them, along with others they'd never seen before. One had a tall plumed helmet and wore bright red armour of a much more regal fassion to the other Dire Avengers, which Tom placed him as. Another wore bright yellow and purple form fitting light armour with a completley blank mask, no eye-holes or anything. The third wore dark red, spiked and sinister looking armour, and hade a more pale complexion than the others.

"Humans," The pale one spat with disgust in a voice like gravel.

"Mon'keigh," the Dire Avenger corrected. "And I share your disgust."

Eldrad, who now wore a fine looking coat and the same yellow and purple as the faceless one, stepped in between the groups.

"Peace, cousins," he said. "We are here as allies and friends, not as enemies."

"If the curcumstances were not so dire," the pale one said, pausing to take a rasping breath, "I would have torn you limb from limb with my bare hands. Your race disgusts me!"

"Ever the diplomat," the Dire Avenger scolded. "I am Autarch Irian, and I am leading the Saim Hann fleet."

The Dark Eldar snorted.

"That is Archon Drearas, and he's here to assist as well," Eldrad explained. "The Dark Eldar don't like humans much," he added lower.

"Really?" Tom asked in mock surprise. "I never would have been able to tell."

"Do not trifle with me, worm!" Drearas roared, unsheathing a wicked looking sword covered in barbs.

The other Eldar raised weapons and backed off until only Tom and the Dark Eldar stood alone on the pulpit, with dozens of guns trained on them.

"I'm quaking in my boots," Tom mocked, the tip of Drearas' blade milimetres from his face.

The Dark Eldar roared and lunged forward in a move Tom reckognized from his training with the Howling Banshees, and dodged beneath the blade to avoid the strike, drawing the blade he'd been loaned for practice sessions. It was simple in comparison to the Dark Eldar's, but no less deadly. Tom decided to adopt an Imperial stance to keep the Archon guessing. True, he was nowhere near the swordsman Bam was, but he was better than most.

The Archon stopped to take stock. Obviously he wasn't expecting any resistance, and Tom's Imperial 'Aquilla' stance, the most common stance with the blade held upright in front, and determined demeanour must have made him second guess his rash moves.

Tom didn't wait, and led with a series of thrusts at the Dark Eldar's abdomen, followed by a spinning slash at his head, which was blocked and thrown back. Tom decided he needed more power and switched to the 'Baneblade' stance, his blade facing out like the barrell of the super-heavy tank. He tried another spinning slash, this time diagonally aimed at the torso, and was rewarded when he felt the blade notch the Archon's armour. His success was short-lived, however, as the Archon's empty hand shot forward and clasped around Tom's neck. The Archon cruely knocked the sword from Tom's hand and shattered it by stomping it with his boot.

"Stop this at once!" Eldrad shouted, advancing. "You are both wounded, and we are here to destroy this ancient menace, not each other!"

The Archon, breathing heavily, looked down to where a thin trail of blood leaked out of his armour where Tom had struck. His eyes widened, and focussed on the human he was slowly strangling, before a smile more chilling than his enraged face had been crept accross his pale visage. He dropped Tom and took a step back.

"I was sloppy, human, and let my guard down," He rasped. "It's been centuries since I've seen my own blood. Take this."

The Archon detatched two spikes from his shoulder guard and threw them to Tom.

"Next time you won't be so lucky," he added, turning and leaving the bridge. Once he was gone Lucca ran to Tom's side.

"You're such a macho idiot," she said, her voice full of concern.

Tom sat on the floor gasping for breath. When he was finally able to talk he gasped "I lost the sword."

"Don't be rediculous, human," Irian said. "I've never seen an average human so much as land a blow on an Archon. I believe you deserve a reward, and I have just the one on my ship."

Tom nodded slowly, still trying to slow his breathing.

"The reason I called you here," Eldrad began once Tom was back on his feet, "Is to outline the plan. We can no longer take a defensive stance, as other factions have begun to move."

"What do you mean 'other factions'?" Lucca asked.

"To our knowledge, Tau, Imperial Guard, Space Marines, and your Inquisition are all involved, not to mention your gang," Irian explained.

"We need to take action," Eldrad continued from behind his mask. "I will personally be leading a small strike force of the most highly elite warriors that all the Eldar factions have to offer. I wish for the two of you to join us."

"Us?" Tom asked, a little surprised.

"Yes," Eldrad went on. "You have just proven to me you would be a match for anything short of a Space Marine, I believe you will be fine."

Tom took a moment to feed his ego, before he nodded.

"Count us in."


End file.
